


Rewritten in the Stars: Arc 1

by Mayalaen



Series: Rewritten in the Stars [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angels, Angst, Case Fic, Castiel's Grace, Character Death, Consensual Sex, Curses, Demons, F/M, First Time, Fix-It, Fluff, Het, Injury, Kid Fic, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mind Manipulation, Oral Sex, Partner Betrayal, Past Character Death, Pre-Series, Season/Series 10, Slash, Surprise Pairing, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Virginity, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 55,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayalaen/pseuds/Mayalaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything goes wrong, the cost way too high, Castiel convinces Destiny to send him back and give the boys the childhood they deserved, while still allowing them to follow Destiny's plan.  Cas had already fallen from Heaven for Dean, but he didn't plan on falling for John too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter 1978

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for an [Anonymous Prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/90403.html?thread=35767843#t35767843). I'll also be posting this [At My Site](http://mayalaen.com/fanfic/supernatural/rewritteninthestars/) and [On My LJ](http://mayalaen.livejournal.com/), but the downloads won't be available until the fic is done.

**Winter 1978**

John was drowning his worries in alcohol. He knew he shouldn't have been there, at a bar late at night with his pregnant wife alone in their home. But that was precisely the reason he was drinking.

He was going to be a dad.

John squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at them until he saw stars.

Father.

Dad.

Responsibility.

He couldn't do this. He'd tried to be a good man, but was he good enough to raise a child? Mary thought so, but she didn't really know just how scared shitless John was about it all. He sighed and motioned for another drink as the bartender walked by. The man, whose name John had forgotten not even two seconds after the man had told him, poured him another shot and left him alone.

John rested his elbows on the bar and played with the shot glass, watching the liquid swirl around as he moved the glass.

“It'll all work out,” someone said.

John frowned and turned toward the man on his right. He was drunk enough already that the room tilted a bit as he moved. “Huh?” he asked, squinting at the man.

“You look as if you've had a rough day,” the man said, voice gravely and surprisingly serious given the fact he looked like he'd stepped out of a cheesy spy movie in that ridiculous trench coat.

John huffed and rolled his eyes. “You could say that.”

“Things have a way of working themselves out,” the man said.

John frowned. “I'm trying to get drunk enough to forget about my problems. You think you can just hand out advice when you no idea what those problems are?”

The man gave him a small smile. “You're right. It was rude of me. I apologize.”

John grunted and turned his attention back to his shot glass, playing with it. “Why the Hell not?” he said under his breath, shrugging, then he looked at the man again. “I'm about to be a father. It didn't hit me when she told me she was pregnant. It took feeling that baby kick when I had a hand on Mary's belly to realize I have no fucking clue how to raise a kid. I'm gonna fuck it up.”

The man held a hand up to call the bartender over. “Water, please,” he said. After the glass of water was put in front of him, he turned to John again.

“I could lie to you and tell you it's going to be easy,” the man said. “But you're not the type of man who would care for patronizing and empty promises. Instead I'm going to set this glass of water in front of you and remind you that in a few short weeks, a human being you've created with a wonderful woman is going to look to you, is going to depend on you to take care of him, and you're going to realize that all your fears and insecurities don't mean a thing when he needs you.”

John looked into the man's blue eyes and shivered as the room around him seemed to slow to a stop. His eyes burned as the rest of the pieces fell into place. He'd been so scared, unsure of what to do with a baby that he hadn't thought about the child as anything but “the baby” he'd be responsible for. This random guy in a bar who told John his son was going to need him? It was the slap in the face he'd needed.

“Drink your water, John,” the man said, then stood up and walked away.

John forgot about the man in under a minute, never questioned the fact that the man had known John's child was going to be a boy, but he downed his water and left the bar after paying his tab with a determined look on his face.

His wife and son needed him. He wouldn't let them down.


	2. Spring 1983

**May 1, 1983**

Dean had been an easy birth, but Mary was having a difficult time with the second baby. John was worried about her, but his wife was a strong woman. She was in pain and tired, but that didn't stop her.

“John, I mean it,” Mary said with her teeth clenched. “Take him home, get the two of your fed, let him take a nap, and come back in a few hours.”

“I'm not leaving you here,” John said quietly, hoping Dean was too busy playing with his toy truck in the corner of the hospital room to notice the tension.

“I'm barely dilated,” Mary said as he took hold of John's wrist and pulled him closer. “This little boy is gonna take his time coming into the world. In the meantime, take care of the other two most important men in my life. They'll call you if things progress faster than expected and you can be here in less than five minutes.”

John opened his mouth to argue, but instead he hissed in pain as his wife shifted her grip on his wrist and twisted just right to make it hurt without doing damage. Mary claimed she'd been a tomboy and played roughly with boys as she grew up, but he swore she had to be some kind of warrior in another life.

“I mean it,” Mary hissed, facial expression fierce. Then, as if they'd never had a tense conversation, her expression changed to pleasant with a beautiful smile. “Now give me a kiss,” she said loudly so Dean would hear her, “say goodnight, and you guys can come back in a little while.”

Dean walked to the bed with his toy truck in both hands and looked up at John. “Wanna give Mommy a hug!” he said.

John realized Mary had let go of the grip she had on his wrist, so he leaned over and picked Dean up. “Be gentle,” he said as he held Dean out over Mary's bed.

Dean kissed and hugged Mary as gently as he could, then gave her belly a little rub. “Baby,” he said as if it was the most amazing thing ever.

“That's right, sweetie,” Mary said. “You and Daddy go home for a while, and later you can come back to meet your new baby brother.”

“Yeah!” Dean said, nodding.

“Say goodnight to Mommy,” John said.

“G'night, Mommy,” Dean said.

“Bye, boys,” Mary said as John leaned over and kissed her sweaty forehead.

John felt like an asshole for leaving Mary alone, but he'd learned long ago that when Mary set her mind to something, he had better just go along for the ride. She was usually right.

*

It was three hours later that the hospital called John and told him Mary was progressing enough that he should come back. He woke Dean and they arrived in under five minutes, just like Mary had said.

“Sir?” a nurse said as he walked by the nurse's station.

“Yeah?” he said, slowing his pace, but not stopping.

“We've got a playroom,” she said as she came out from behind the desk. “Would you mind if I took Dean there and watched him while you stay with Mary?”

John stopped in his tracks, realizing what he'd been about to do. He couldn't take Dean in the room for the birth. What had he been thinking? He shook his head and gave her a sheepish smile.

“Thank you,” he said, then looked down at her nametag, “Ashley.”

“Hey, Dean,” Ashley said, smiling at the little boy as she reached out.

Dean whimpered as John handed him over, looking up at John with wounded eyes. “I want Mommy,” he said, bottom lip quivering.

“You'll get to see Mommy later,” John said. “Ashley's got some toys to play with. Do you wanna go with Ashley and play with some toys?”

Dean considered it for a moment, taking long enough to decide that John nearly lost his patience and told Ashley to just take him.

“I wanna play,” Dean finally said with a confident nod. 

“Good boy,” John said, then gave Dean a quick kiss on the forehead. “Be a good boy for Ashley.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Dean said.

“Bye, Daddy,” Ashley said, waving at John and winking.

John waved as he walked away, relieved that Dean would be taken care of. He could focus on Mary now.

He never saw Ashley's eyes turn black.

*

“Somebody wants to meet their new baby brother,” someone said from the doorway.

John looked up, left arm still around Mary's shoulder as Sam nursed from her for the first time. The man holding Dean was in white scrubs and had a kind smile.

“Come on in, sweetie,” Mary said, sounding very worn out, but happy to see her firstborn. “Come meet Sam.”

The man walked up to Mary's bed and positioned Dean so he could get a good look at Sam. John was happy to see that Dean seemed content in the nurse's arms. The man must've made friends with Dean down in the playroom because it usually took Dean a little while to warm up to people.

“Hi, Sam,” Dean said, waving at his new baby brother.

“Thank you for watching him,” John said to the nurse. “And please thank Ashley for me. I was a little preoccupied when she offered to take Dean to the playroom earlier, so I didn't thank her.”

“It wasn't an imposition,” the man said. “Dean is a very good little boy. We constructed Lego houses, which he then destroyed.”

John chuckled. “That's his favorite game lately.”

The man smiled. “If you'd like, I can get him something to eat in the cafeteria and put him down for a nap in the nursery.”

“Wanna see Mommy!” Dean said rather loudly.

Sam whimpered and kicked his feet, but was too busy having his first official meal to put up too much of a fuss.

“What's wrong?” Dean said, looking very concerned that he'd upset his baby brother.

“It's okay, baby,” Mary said. “Remember I said babies get scared easily?”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, nodding.

“He just got scared because you were loud, but he'll be okay,” Mary said.

Dean looked as if he was going to cry, but then he leaned closer to Sam. “Sorry, Sam,” he whispered.

“You are going to be a really great big brother,” the nurse said to Dean.

Dean's whole demeanor changed. He smiled, his eyes widened, and he seemed to sit up straighter in the nurse's arms. “I'm gonna be the bestest!”

“Yeah, you are, buddy,” John said, so proud of his son.

“Are you hungry, kiddo?” Mary asked Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “I want fries.”

Mary chuckled. “Well, maybe if you ask nicely, the nurse will get you fries.”

Dean looked up at the nurse and unleashed his most charming smile. “Can I please have fries?”

“Yes, you may,” the nurse replied. “Say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy and we'll go get fries.”

“Bye!” Dean said, waving at his parents.

“See you later, sweetie,” Mary said.

None of them remembered the nurse who'd watched Dean that night, and the hospital gave Ashley a week of paid vacation after she came down with a nasty stomach flu and insisted she needed time off to recover.


	3. Winter 1983

**Winter 1983**

Dean was holding onto Sam so tightly that John didn't bother trying to take him away. Instead he picked Dean up and carried both of his children, following the paramedic.

“Step into the ambulance, sir,” the paramedic said.

John was numb. He would later wonder how he was able to hold onto his kids because he couldn't remember having control over his arms.

“I don't need to go to the hospital,” John said, voice monotone as he barely registered the fact that someone was talking to him. He had his babies. He had to hold onto them. That was all he could do.

“Smoke inhalation can sneak up on you,” the man said. “It's hospital policy that we take you in and check all of you out.”

John shook his head. “We're fine,” he said, then flinched when the paramedic's eyes turned black and the man showed his teeth in anger.

Just as the paramedic lunged for them, he was knocked to the ground by another paramedic. John had a moment to wonder if he'd finally gone crazy when it appeared that the paramedics were fighting with each other.

But then the first paramedic was gone in a flash of white light and the second paramedic was standing in front of him, a kind look on his face and gentle hands guiding him to sit on the bumper of the ambulance.

John forgot about the first paramedic as the second one said something to Dean, gently wiping a washcloth over the boy's face. The rest of the night was a blur, but John knew he'd never forget the second paramedic's beautiful blue eyes or his calming nature.

By the next morning, it was as if the whole night had been a dream, and all that John could remember was being helped by the police and fire crew. He couldn't even remember the look on Mary's face as she'd been pinned to the ceiling, though he'd never forget what had happened to her.

He felt guilty about it, but he was thankful that his last clear memory of her was saying goodnight before both boys were put into their beds.


	4. Summer 1984

**Summer 1984**

John rounded the corner, eyes wild, panting, heart beating so fast and hard that he couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, running faster than he'd ever run before. He nearly tripped over the pile of garbage in the alleyway, but nothing could stop him. Nothing.

He made it to the end of the alley, but instead of a scene out of his worst nightmare, he saw the strangest, most wonderful thing he could've hoped for.

“Hi, Daddy!” his five-year-old said, waving at him as if nothing was wrong.

The man holding Dean was smiling, holding Dean gently, yet tightly, as if Dean was just as precious to him as he was to John.

“Dean!” John nearly wailed, stumbling toward the man and his son. “Are you okay?” he asked, checking his son over for injuries, not giving a damn that the man holding his son was covered in the slime of the creature that had taken off with Dean in its claws. He knew there was no possibility the man was the creature in disguise. He silently promised Mary he'd never take Dean on a stakeout ever again, no matter how safe it seemed.

“I'm okay, Daddy,” Dean said, then giggled. “An angel saved me!”

“Angel?” John said, too high on adrenaline and fear to grasp what Dean had said.

“Dean is fine,” the man said. “I told the big doggy to put him down, and then I made the big, mean doggy promise never to hurt him ever again, right Dean?”

John blinked at the man, then watched as Dean looked up and grinned, nodding. His son looked fine. He wasn't traumatized, bruised, scratched. He wasn't dead. His baby was alive.

“He told the doggy he was a bad boy,” Dean said, a deadly serious look on his face.

“Doggy?” John said, feeling as if he'd just walked into the Twilight Zone. And that was saying quite a lot, given what he'd seen since Mary had died.

“Yes,” the man said, giving John a significant look. “A big doggy wanted to play with Dean, so he took him away from you. Daddy got scared, didn't he?” the man asked Dean.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Daddy's face is all wet like your jacket.”

The man chuckled, then wiped some of the slime off his own trench coat and flicked it away. “Doggy slobber is gross.”

Dean giggled again. “Yeah,” he said, slapping a glob of slime on the coat and giggling even more.

“A doggy,” John repeated, the panic finally receding enough that he understood why they were talking about a giant, slimy, bad doggy instead of a really fucking scary monster that had been ready to eat his son. “Where did the big, bad doggy go?” he asked the man.

The man in the trench coat smiled at him. “The bad doggy decided to go home after he ate a snack that hurt his tummy.”

John knew exactly what had happened now. This man was a hunter and had not only saved Dean's life by poisoning the creature that had taken his son, but he'd smoothed things over so Dean wouldn't be traumatized by yet another evil thing.

“Thank you,” John said softly as he looked the man in the eye. “I..., I can't thank you enough.”

The man held out his right hand. “My name is Castiel,” he said, introducing himself formally.

“I'm John,” he said, shaking hands with the man who'd saved him from the devastation of losing his son.

“Nice to meet you, John,” Castiel said.

Dean leaned forward, his nose nearly touching Castiel's. “I'm Dean.”

Castiel chuckled. “Yes, I know you're Dean because you told me.”

“Castiel is a silly name,” Dean said. “You look like Cas.”

“Dean,” John said gently, about to reprimand his son for his lack of manners.

“Castiel does sound funny, doesn't it,” Cas whispered, as if it was a secret. “But that's probably why only my best friends call me Cas.”

Dean's eyes widened. “Can I call you Cas? Can I be your best friend?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, you can.”

“Daddy!” Dean said, turning on his best 'I want something' charm. “Can Cas come home with us?”

John was about to tell Dean that no, Castiel probably had better things to do, but then the situation smacked him in the face all over again. The reason they were standing in an alleyway covered in slime. The reason Dean was alive to ask if Cas could come home with them.

John looked to Castiel. “It's been a long day, you could probably use a shower and a change of clothes, and Mrs. Larson is at home with my youngest making dinner. Would you care to join us?”

Cas tilted his head to the side a little as he thought about the offer. “I'd like that.”

“Yay!” Dean squealed. “Cas! Sit in the back with me!”

“I can do that,” Cas said.

“Yay!” Dean squealed again.

John wanted to hold his kid, hug him tight just to confirm that yes, his son was alive and breathing, but Dean had other ideas. As John held his hands out to Dean, Dean frowned.

“I want Cas to carry me,” he said, pouting.

John tried not to let it feel like a rejection. He reminded himself Dean was a child and didn't know he'd almost died just a few minutes ago, which was a good thing. “Okay, Cas can carry you to the car, kiddo,” John said, then leaned down and gave Dean a kiss on the forehead. It would have to do for now.

Dean talked the whole way home, telling Cas about the car, their house, Sammy, Mrs. Larson, and Bobby. Dean made sure Cas knew Bobby had doggies that weren't bad doggies, and that Cas definitely needed to meet Bobby.

*

John sat on Sam's bed long after the boys had fallen asleep. Dean had his own bed, but he never used it, which was fine with John tonight. Seeing both boys right there, living, breathing, and safe was all he needed.

He heard the stairs squeak and knew Cas was coming upstairs. Cas had insisted on doing the dishes after dinner, and John had let him, especially after Cas had suggested John tuck the boys in.

Cas walked by the door to the boys' bedroom and smiled at John. John nodded, gave him a smile in return. He knew nothing about the man other than he was a hunter and he'd saved Dean. That was more than enough to earn him dinner and a place to sleep. John decided to talk with Cas over breakfast, find out more about him.

John fell asleep in Dean's bed, turned toward his children in the next bed so he could see them if he woke up in the middle of the night.

*

John woke up to Sam poking his face and saying 'daddy' over and over again. John kept his eyes closed and waited for Sam to make his move. Sammy let out a little huff of frustration, then pulled himself up onto the mattress.

He'd given up on keeping Sammy in a crib just a couple months after Mary died. Dean climbed in all the time to sleep with Sammy, and Sammy was clever enough to start pulling himself up and over the railing by the time he was seven months old, which scared the Hell out of John when he'd caught Sam about ready to fall to the floor.

So the boys slept in beds that weren't all that high off the ground so that Sam could come and go as he pleased. Sam and Dean were really good boys and John was a light sleeper, so he didn't have to worry about them getting into things.

John tried hard not to smile as he felt Sam climbing on top of him and sitting down on John's belly. Sam was always very persistent.

“Daddy,” Sammy said, pout evident in his tone of voice. “Up!”

John slowly moved his hands up toward Sam's chubby little legs, then attacked. Sam screamed with laughter as John tickled the boy's legs, then his belly, and finally his armpits as Sam squealed and rolled all over the bed.

He stopped tickling Sam when he heard Sam having a hard time catching his breath. He knew hiccups came next, which were hard to get rid of, so instead he leaned down and kissed Sam's belly.

“Morning, Sammy,” John said, then pretended to bite Sammy's belly.

“Daddy, no!” Sam squealed, giggling again. “Tickles!”

John chuckled as he sat up, giving Sam a pat on his belly. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Sammy said, shaking his head.

“Why not?” John asked. “Did Dean feed you already?”

It didn't matter how many times John tried to reassure Dean that Sammy wouldn't starve without a mommy, Dean just didn't seem to be able to let John handle feeding Sam without help. It was something John couldn't change, but he would if he could.

Dean walked into the bedroom, all smiles, looking happier than he'd seen his oldest in a long time. “Cas fed us,” he said.

“He did?” John asked, reaching out and picking up Dean. “Well, he's a really nice guy, isn't he?”

“He also read us a story,” Dean said.

“Big doggy!” Sammy yelled as he jumped on the bed. “Big doggy book!”

John picked Sammy up with his free hand and headed downstairs. “He read you Clifford? Wow! Did you tell him that's your favorite book, Sammy?”

“Uh-huh,” Sam said, nodding his head so hard John had to keep his head from smacking into the wall as they went down the stairs.

“Good morning, John,” Cas said as John walked into the kitchen. “I hope you don't mind. I told the boys to wake you up for breakfast,” he said as he dished up eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

“I don't mind at all,” John said as he sat down at the kitchen table. “It smells great.”

“Cas made me and Sammy a smiley face,” Dean said. “Cas! Make Daddy a smiley face! Please!” he begged, drawing out the last word.

Cas chuckled. “One smiley face coming up,” he said as he started rearranging the food on the plate.

John laughed as Cas set the plate down in front of him. There were three pancakes stacked in the middle of the plate, and on top were three strips of bacon making a mouth, two orange slices making up the eyes, and a strawberry in the middle for the nose. The eggs were scrambled and had been made to look like hair around the top of the smiley face.

“Thanks, Cas,” John said, and Cas smiled at him, but then went back to cleaning up the kitchen. “Did you already eat?”

“Yes, I'm going to clean up here, then I'll be on my way,” Cas said. “I greatly appreciate you letting me stay in your home.”

“You were a great houseguest,” John said. “If you're ever in town on a hunt again, feel free to stay.”

“I'll take you up on that,” Cas said.

John, Dean, and Sam waved goodbye to Cas after breakfast. It wasn't until they were back inside and watching Saturday morning cartoons that John realized Cas just walked off instead of calling a cab, asking for a ride, or driving off in his own vehicle. He forgot about it soon enough.


	5. Fall 1984

**Fall 1984**

“Can I buy you a drink?” someone said.

John recognized the voice instantly, and as he turned to look at the man sitting on the barstool next to him, he suddenly felt better.

“Hey, Cas,” John said, the frown on his face that seemed to be permanent lately finally cracking into a bit of a smile. “You here lookin' for the 'squatch too?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, I got into town last night.”

“Any leads?” John asked, amused by the fact that Cas looked exactly the same as he had the night they met three months ago, minus the slime, of course.

Cas glanced down at John's empty shot glass. “No, but I've interviewed a group of hikers who claim they saw it yesterday.”

“I was just about to order another,” John said as he tapped the shot glass with the ring he couldn't seem to take off his left ring finger. “Wanna drink with me?”

Cas nodded. “I'll have whatever you're having.”

They downed a few shots in relative silence, and even though Cas wasn't offering any words of wisdom, John was beginning to feel better.

“How are the boys?” Cas asked as he waved off the bartender.

John's chest ached. “They're staying with a friend.”

“Ah,” Cas said as he played with his shot glass. “Is Dean doing well in school?”

John grimaced. “He's having a hard time adjusting.”

“Adjusting to what?” Cas asked.

“I rented out the house,” John said, the ache in his chest getting worse. “We've been on the road for the last month. Dean had some friends in the neighborhood and at the school, and he didn't handle it well when I told him we had to leave.”

“Oh,” Cas said, sounding sad. “It's hard on kids to make changes like that. They're resilient, but their little worlds can easily be shaken.”

“Sammy doesn't seem to care about the change,” John said. “He's just happy to be wherever Dean is, but I can see that Dean's mood is affecting Sammy.”

“If you don't mind my asking, who are they staying with?” Cas asked.

“Jim Murphy,” John said.

“I've spoken to Jim a few times,” Cas said, nodding. “He's given me a few leads on hunts, but I've never met him face-to-face.”

“He's a good guy,” John said, playing with his wedding band.

“What made you decide to go on the road with the boys?” Cas asked.

John bristled so quickly his head felt like it was spinning. “You're a hunter! You know what's out there! I have to protect my boys!” he snarled at Cas.

“I apologize,” Cas said softly. “I was just curious. I didn't mean to offend you.”

John sighed, his body deflating as he rested his elbows on the bar and rubbed his hands over his face. “It's okay, Cas,” he said, then motioned to the bartender, who quickly poured another shot.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Cas asked.

John downed the shot and shook his head. “I'm sleepin' in m'car,” he said, the alcohol beginning to hit him harder than before.

Cas set a small stack of $5 bills on the bar and stood up. “I've got a very nice motel room, and they just happened to be out of single rooms. If you'd like to stay with me tonight, there's a spare bed waiting for you across the street, room 104,” he said as he set a key down next to John's shot glass, then left.

John stared at the key, his stomach rumbling uncomfortably. He'd forgotten to eat since the day before, which must've been why the alcohol was making his head feel funny. John didn't know how much longer he sat there staring at the key, but by the time he stood up, there were only a few people left in the bar. John pulled out his wallet and fished out a few $20 bills.

“Your buddy paid for it all, sir,” the bartender said as John started setting the bills on the bar.

John frowned. “All of it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the guy replied.

John shrugged. “All right, then,” he said, then headed toward the front door.

He stumbled a bit on the way out, his hand-eye coordination failing him when he couldn't seem to get his keys out of his pocket. He stood on the sidewalk in front of the bar and watched the motel sign across the street flickering as he played with the key in his left hand.

“Fuck it,” John said as he threw his hands out to his sides in resignation and stumbled his way across the street.

Cas was sitting at the table in his room, looking through the local newspaper. “Hi, John,” Cas said with a small smile.

“Hey,” John said, shuffling to the bed closest to him. “Thanks f'the invite.”

“Sleep as long as you like,” Cas said. “I'm a very quiet roommate.”

“'K,” John mumbled, then tripped into bed.

He was asleep before he could kick his boots off.

*

When John woke up the next afternoon, he was alone in the room. He took a shower and grabbed a coffee and donuts from the gas station before heading out to the camping site he'd planned to visit in search of the Sasquatch. Two miles down the road, his tire blew while he was driving on a bridge.

It was only his quick reflexes and years of driving skills that saved him from going over the edge of the bridge and down into the canyon while trying to keep the car going straight with the blown tire.

John sat in the car for a few minutes, hands still gripping the wheel tightly, heart pounding. He'd planned on sleeping at the campsite last night. He'd been drunk enough the night before that he never would've been able to avoid going over the edge of the bridge. If it hadn't been for Cas offering the spare bed to sleep in, John realized he'd be dead.

His boys would've grown up without him in a world that John new was full of evil.


	6. Winter 1984

**Winter 1984**

“Daddy!” Sammy squealed as he ran toward John.

“Hey, guys!” John said as he leaned down to pick up first Sammy, then Dean. He hugged them tightly, enjoying the warmth of his boys. It was always great to see them after a hunt and remember who he was fighting for, that he was making the world a safer place for his kids.

“Pastor Jim colored with us!” Dean said, a huge smile on his face.

“I made a fishy for you!” Sammy said, obviously very proud of himself.

“I can't wait to see it,” John said, so happy to be with his boys that his chest felt as if it would burst. He set Sam down on the floor and chuckled as Sam ran to the coffee table and grabbed the paper he'd colored on.

“Come look at what I colored, Daddy,” Dean said, wriggling in John's arms.

“I'm coming,” John said as he set Dean down and headed for the coffee table. Hey, Jim,” he said with a smile for his friend. He crouched down next to the table.

“Hi, Johnny,” Jim said from his spot on the floor behind the coffee table.

“Fishy!” Sammy said as he shoved the paper in John's face.

John grabbed the paper and pulled it away from his face so he could see the drawing. “That's very good, Sammy.”

“It's red,” Sam said as he pointed to the fish's body, or what John assumed was the body.

“Yes, that's red,” John said. “And what color is this?” he asked as he pointed toward what might've been the head of the fish. Or maybe it was the tail. For all he knew, it was a boat.

“Blue!” Sammy said as he poked the fish/tail/boat.

“That's right,” John said. “So you made this for me?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “You like blue.”

John chuckled. “Yes, I do.”

“Fishy's head is blue,” Sam said, a very serious look on his face.

“Thank you,” John said, touched that Sam not only made him the drawing, but that he'd used John's favorite color. “Can I put this in my Sammy and Dean book?”

“Uh-huh,” Sam said, then grabbed a green crayon. “I'm gonna make another fishy.”

“Okay, you do that,” John said.

“Daddy, look at mine,” Dean said, waiting patiently for his turn.

“Very good, Dean,” John said. Dean had drawn a swing set and jungle gym that John recognized was from the park down the street. “Who's this?” he asked as he pointed to a man standing by the jungle Jim.

“That's Pastor Jim,” Dean said. “He took us to the park so we could play. That's me on the swing,” he said as he pointed to a little boy in a green shirt on the swing, “and there's Sammy eating sand,” he said as he pointed to the sandbox, “and that's Pastor Jim telling Sammy he'll get a tummy ache if he keeps eating sand.”

John chuckled. “Well, that's a really good drawing, Dean. I'm very proud of you.”

Dean blushed, like he always did when John complimented him, then went back to drawing, almost as if he didn't know what to do with the compliment.

“How'd it go, Jim?” John asked as he eased himself down to the floor between the boys.

“They were good,” Jim said. “Sammy did manage to eat more than just sand and both of them were very good for me.”

John smiled. “Thanks for watching them.”

“Any time,” Jim said. “The boys are very well-behaved and we have a good time.”

John nodded. “I appreciate it.”

“So how did your trip go?” Jim asked.

“Found what I was looking for,” John said, “and it was easier to find than I thought it would be. A couple of campers didn't have a good time on their trip, but about three more had a really great time.”

John and Jim had always communicated well, and John quickly realized he couldn't speak freely in front of the boys after the first hunt he was injured on and Dean overheard him blaming a spirit. So John worked with it, and Jim was easily able to understand that two campers had died, but John was able to save three more.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Jim said as he pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I've been feeding info to a hunter for a while now, and when I told him about a hunt in Ohio, he asked if I knew of anyone who was good at taking care of 'rabbits,' so I said I'd make sure the two of you got in touch.”

John couldn't help but smile over their code word for jackalopes. He took the paper from Jim and looked it over. Castiel's name was written on the paper along with a phone number.

“I've met up with him a couple of times,” John said. “If Cas needs help, I can do that.”

“Cas?” Dean asked, looking up at John with wide eyes and a big smile. “Can we see Cas?”

“Dean knows Cas?” Jim asked.

Dean nodded, still smiling. “Cas gave a slimy doggy a tummy ache because the doggy scared me.”

Jim looked to John, who nodded to let him know the story was true. “Oh, well that was nice of him,” Jim said, voice a little shaky, as if he knew exactly what monster Dean was talking about, and most likely he did. Jim had seen a lot more scary shit than John had.

“So can we see Cas, Daddy?” Dean asked. “Please!” he begged as he dropped the crayon and started jumping up and down in front of John. “Please, please, please!”

“Okay, calm down, kiddo,” John said, putting a hand on each of Dean's shoulders.

“But I wanna see Cas!” Dean whined.

“Dean,” John said, tone of voice gently letting Dean know he needed to stop pushing.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Dean said with a pout, his little body deflating with disappointment.

“What I'm gonna do is ask him if he'd like to come for a visit as soon as we get done with the hunt,” John said.

“Yeah!” Dean said, jumping up and down again.

“Hang on,” John said. “I said I'd ask him. That's not a promise that he'll come. He might have things to do, but I'll ask him.”

“Just tell him I really wanna see him,” Dean said. “And Sammy does too.”

“I'll tell him,” John said with a nod.

“I'll draw him a picture!” Dean said as he grabbed a fresh piece of paper and a yellow crayon and started on his drawing.

“I'm sure Cas would love a picture,” John said.

“Well, I hope you're hungry,” Jim said. “Dinner's in the oven.”

“I thought it smelled great in here,” John said.

“I helped,” Dean said.

“I helped too,” Sammy added.

Jim chuckled. “The boys were a big help with dinner. I'm sure you'll enjoy Dean's green bean casserole.”

John frowned. “Dean doesn't like green beans.”

Jim grinned. “That would be why there are frozen French fries dipped in green food coloring covered in gravy and onions baking in the oven.”

John laughed. “Sounds good to me!”

“Fries!” Sammy agreed.

*

Cas was an amazing hunter. He worked well with John and had a knack for picking up on the tiniest of noises that even John couldn't hear. They took care of the 'rabbit' infestation quickly and easily, then were headed back to Jim's an entire day ahead of schedule.

John found him easy to talk to, and even the silences were comfortable. Cas seemed to enjoy riding in the Impala, liked all the music John played, and wasn't picky about what they grabbed for dinner on the way to Jim's.

“I'm thinking of selling the house,” John said when they were still about fifty miles from Jim's place.

Cas was quiet for a moment. “You don't sound all that sure about it.”

“That's because I'm not,” John admitted. “I like the house. It's where my boys are happiest. Where I'd planned on raising my family.”

“But?” Cas prodded.

John turned the headlights on as the sun was setting. “All I can smell is the smoke,” he said softly. “All I can see is...,” he trailed off. John sighed. “The insurance company paid for the remodeling, and I'm sure no one else can smell the smoke, but I just can't seem to shake it.”

“Maybe,” Cas said gently, “the boys are happiest when they have a stable place to call home, where they can be a family, not necessarily _that_ home.”

“Oh, well, I guess I hadn't thought of it that way before,” John said with a frown.

John thought about it. For a long time.

*

Dean was crying. John hated seeing his kids cry, but the reason he was crying could've been avoided if John wasn't so fucked up.

“Come here, kiddo,” John said softly. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

John didn't feel like he deserved it, but Dean immediately came to him and wrapped his arms around John's neck, his legs around John's middle.

“I got angry,” John said into Dean's neck. “I'm so sorry, baby.”

“I didn't mean to do it, Daddy,” Dean said through his hiccuping sobs. “I can help you fix it. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” John said as he sat down on the couch, holding Dean tightly.

He waved Jim off when the man gave him a questioning look and pointed to the mess on the floor. John would clean it later. All that mattered right now was Dean, and John was glad Sammy was upstairs taking a nap so he could be with Dean. Jim left them alone.

Once the hiccuping sobs turned into sniffles, John pushed Dean away from him enough that he could look the boy in the eye. Dean looked down at John's belly, his bottom lip still wobbling.

“Dean, look at me, baby,” John said softly.

“I'm sorry, Daddy,” Dean said as he looked John in the eye.

“I know, but it wasn't your fault,” John said. “You didn't mean to break it.”

“You told me not to play with it,” Dean said. “But it smells like Mommy.”

John's eyes burned with the pain and the tears welled up. “I know, kiddo. I _did_ tell you not to play with it, but did you break it on purpose?”

“No!” Dean said, eyes wide, voice loud.

“Okay, I believe you, and you're not in trouble for an accident. You're in trouble for disobeying me,” John said calmly. “Daddy shouldn't have gotten mad at you. You did something you weren't supposed to do, but I should've put you in a time-out for disobeying me instead of yelling.”

“But I broke Mommy's jewelry box,” Dean said as the tears started to flow again.

John hugged Dean close to him again, letting a few of his own tears run into Dean's hair. “You didn't mean to.”

“I wasn't playing with it,” Dean whispered. “I just wanted to remember what Mommy smelled like. Sometimes I forget.”

John squeezed his eyes shut as he held on tightly. “You wanna know a secret?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said.

“Sometimes I forget what Mommy looked like,” John said. “Do you wanna know another secret?”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, then sniffled.

“Whenever I feel sad and my heart hurts because I miss her,” John said softly, his lips right by Dean's ear, “I remember that she gave me the two best gifts she could've ever given me. Do you know what those gifts were?”

“Me 'n' Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Yup,” John said with a smile as Dean sat up and looked him in the eye. “And every time I see those pretty eyes that you got from your mommy or the adorable smile Sammy got from her, it helps me remember what she looked like, and it makes me wanna be the best daddy I can be because you boys are the most important thing and Mommy would be so proud of you guys.”

Dean's lips twitched into a very tiny smile. Dean may not have been giggling and happy, but the little smile was a good sign. John would take it as a win.

*

The next morning the jewelry box was sitting on the bed next to John's head. He thanked Jim for fixing it, and when Jim said he hadn't touched the jewelry box, John just hugged him and said thank you again. John never could figure out how Jim had pieced it together so perfectly that he couldn't see any of the cracks or splintering in the wood.


	7. Spring 1986

**Spring 1986**

John tried to stay as still as possible, to keep his breathing quiet, but his leg hurt so much that he was nearly in tears. He heard the creature roar, but he couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. It was like the roar of a lion, coming from everywhere and vibrating inside his chest.

He closed his eyes and thought of his children. Sam and Dean were staying with Jim again, but Sam had cried when John had left. Sammy didn't usually cry when John left on a hunt, but this time he'd put up such a fuss that Jim had just told John to go ahead and leave and he'd try to distract Sam. Dean had seemed scared, but he'd still waved goodbye.

John couldn't leave his kids without a father. They'd already had their mother torn from them. He had to live. He had to fight.

He grunted softly as he squirmed on the ground, reaching for his ankle holster and pulling out his switchblade. He held the knife in his hands and slowly released the safety, opening it quietly. The creature growled, but this time he knew it was closer. It must've caught his scent.

John was bleeding from a small cut on his leg, but that was the least of his problems. His leg was also broken, possibly his ankle as well.

The creature crept into the clearing, and John realized why the thing had sounded like a lion. It was big, but it looked like a mix between a lion and a black panther. If a game hunter had been looking at it, he'd have thought it was a good kill, wouldn't have noticed the hypnotic eyes until it was too late.

John readied himself. He wasn't going to lie there and let the thing kill him without a fight. The creature sauntered closer, but as John shifted to give himself more leverage, the pain of his broken leg hit him hard and he passed out.

*

“Ah!” John gasped as he flailed, eyes opening wide as he tried to figure out where the fuck he was.

A motel room? A fucking motel room? He looked down at his legs and frowned. His jeans were ripped, but there were no splints, no cast, and the flailing he'd done hadn't hurt at all. He flinched as the door to the motel room opened.

“Hello, John,” Castiel said as he kicked the door closed behind him and walked to the small table in the corner of the room, setting down a bag from a local restaurant.

“Cas?” John said. “What the hell?”

Cas pulled a couple of Styrofoam containers and a can of soda out of the bag. “I brought us dinner.”

“I see that,” John said as he stood up, cautiously testing out his legs. “What I mean is what the hell happened after I passed out?”

Cas sat down at the table and opened the containers. “I was hunting the Cerberus when I came upon you passed out on the ground.”

“Cerberus?” John said, a frown on his face as he slowly made his way to the table. “It had one head.”

“Yes, they only show all three heads when they're about to consume their prey,” Cas said nonchalantly.

John flopped down onto the chair opposite Cas. “I take it the three heads were clearly visible when you found me?”

“Yes,” Cas said with a nod.

“I suppose I have you to thank yet again,” John said, looking closely at Cas.

“No need to thank me,” Cas said, shrugging. “You'd have done the same for me.”

John nodded. “Yeah, but so far it's been a little one-sided,” he said, noticing how blue Cas' eyes were. Maybe it was the soft lighting in the room, maybe it was the fact that the boys weren't around to distract him, but he didn't remember Cas' eyes being so striking.

Cas gave him a little smile. “I'd rather you not get hurt, but if I save you a hundred times over, I'll still be just as willing to save you the hundred and first time.”

John chuckled. “Let's hope it doesn't come to that,” he said as he opened the container of food sitting in front of him. He chuckled again, shaking his head. “You know, Dean calls you our guardian angel.”

The smile on Cas' face warmed John's heart. He seemed truly touched as he tilted his head to the side and just smiled. Cas was an odd guy, that much John had figured out already. But he hadn't noticed until tonight that he didn't mind Cas' awkwardness. If anyone else had just sat there looking at him, he'd have been itching to get away or knock the stupid look off their face, but not with Cas.

“You have two special little boys,” Cas said softly.

“They miss you,” John said, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt silly for saying it, but before he could internally kick himself too much, Cas huffed out a chuckle.

“I miss them too,” he said.

The look on Cas' face said there was more behind that than anyone listening in might've thought. Yet it didn't seem inappropriate. And John had no idea why. Those words out of any number of hunters he'd met would've given him a creepy vibe, one that would fill him with the need to hide his children away, but it wasn't like that with Cas.

“They're staying with Jim right now,” John said. “Jim's got room if you'd like to rest up before your next hunt.”

Cas frowned as he seemed to think it over, then he nodded. “I'd like that.”

John was probably a little more excited over that than he should've been. But it was okay, because it was Cas.

*

Later that night, as John was falling asleep to the sound of Cas watching late-night TV, he remembered his leg had been injured. He moved his leg around under the sheets, as if he hadn't just spent the last couple hours using it without a problem.

He frowned, trying to remember exactly what had happened. He'd been on the ground, the Cerberus stalking toward him, but he hadn't been able to get up.

Was his leg really broken? His jeans were torn, but there was only a little blood from a small wound. But he remembered the pain of trying to move his leg. It was the whole reason he'd passed out.

John sighed as he fluffed his pillow and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. He decided the Cerberus must've been fucking with his head. That had to be it. He'd never really broken his leg.

Had he?

*

“Daddy!” Dean yelled as John opened the front door and walked in.

“Hey, kiddo!” John said, picking up a mostly naked Dean just as a completely naked and wet Sammy streaked across the living room, giggling and squealing.

Jim stumbled into the living room, his shirt and the upper half of his slacks soaked through, some bubbles on the top of his head. “Sammy! Wait!” he called out as he chased Sam.

“Sammy doesn't wanna wear pajamas either,” Dean said as he yanked at his underoos. “Pastor Jim said I could wear just my underoos after I had my bath.”

“Pastor Jim's a pretty cool guy, huh?” John said, chuckling as Sammy streaked through the living room again going the other way.

“Cas!” Dean screeched as Cas walked into the living room behind John. He squirmed in John's arms, so John set him down. “Cas! Are you staying with us for a while?” Dean asked as he ran to Cas and pulled on his trench coat.

“Yes,” Cas said, crouching down to be at eye level with Dean, “your daddy asked me if I'd like to visit you guys. I couldn't pass up that opportunity.”

“Yay!” Dean yelled as he wrapped his arms around Cas' neck and hopped up and down at the same time.

Cas allowed Dean to nearly strangle him, wrapping his arms around the small boy. “I missed you,” he said as they pulled apart.

“Missed you too!” Dean said.

Pastor Jim walked into the living room with a naked Sammy on his hip. “Hello, Castiel,” he said with a smile, though he did look worn out and a little out of breath.

“I hope I'm not imposing,” Cas said.

“Cas!” Sam screamed, reaching out for Cas and squirming in Jim's arms. “Wanna go to Cas! Want Cas to hold me!”

Jim chuckled. “You're all wet.”

“I don't mind,” Cas said, reaching out for Sammy. Sammy squealed and happily went with Cas, who hugged him, then rested him on his hip. “Where are your pajamas?” he asked.

Sammy pouted. “Don't wanna put on my 'jamas!”

“Why not?” Cas asked.

“I don't wanna!” Sam said, pout turning into a flat out scowl.

Cas chuckled. “It feels good to be naked, doesn't it,” he whispered as if it was a big secret.

Sammy immediately started grinning and nodding. “Yeah! Wanna be naked!”

“Maybe if you let Pastor Jim get you all dry,” Cas said, “he'll let you stay naked for story time.”

Sammy turned to Jim, a big smile on his face. “Please?”

Pastor Jim pretended to think about it for a moment. “I suppose we can do that tonight.”

“Me too!” Dean said, hopping up and down and yanking on Cas' trench coat again.

“Ask him nicely,” Cas said, “and maybe he'll let you.”

“Please?” Dean asked, pulling out his most adorable and charming smile for Pastor Jim.

“All right,” Jim said, “you guys have got a deal.”

Both boys celebrated their win by squealing and flailing about. John looked his friend over, who was nearly completely soaked and appeared to have been the victim of Sammy's latest obsession with using soap suds to style hair while in the bathtub.

“I can get them to bed, Jim,” John offered.

“Nonsense!” Jim said, shaking his head. “You two need to relax after the hard couple of days you've had.”

“It wasn't _that_ bad,” John argued.

Jim sighed. “All right, the real reason I'm not going to let you tuck them in is I made them a promise, and there's no way I'm going back on it.”

Dean yanked on Cas' trench coat to get his attention. “Pastor Jim tells really awesome stories, and then he lets me and Sammy fill in the blanks with anything we wanna!”

“That sounds very fun,” Cas said, a serious look on his face.

“It is!” Dean said with a big grin.

“It's settled then,” John said throwing his hands up in the air. “You guys are gonna do story time while Cas and I scrounge around in the kitchen for a snack.”

“Say goodnight, boys,” Jim said.

“G'night, Daddy!” Sam and Dean said, Sammy waving as they headed off for the spare bedroom upstairs.

“G'night, guys,” John said, then turned to Cas. “I need a beer or five. You?”

“Yes, I'd like a beer,” Cas said.

John headed for the kitchen, pleased to find cold beers in the fridge. Pastor Jim wasn't a heavy drinker, and he mostly kept beer around for John and the other hunters that visited. John very much appreciated it, especially after a rough hunt.

“I'm gonna crash on the couch for a while,” John said. “If you wanna sleep, I can turn the volume down on the TV, otherwise I feel like watching nothing in particular.”

“I'll join you,” Cas said.

John ended up falling asleep before Cas did.


	8. Summer 1986

**Summer 1986**

“Daddy, please?” Dean drawled, using his most charming 'I'm adorable, so you know you wanna do this for me' look. “Please can we go camping?”

John looked at Cas again, who gave him a small smile. Either Cas was a genius for mentioning a camping trip in front of the boys or the guy just had no clue that asking in front of children meant the kids would already be on his side. Whatever it was, Cas was going to get his way, as were the boys.

“All right,” John said, then chuckled as his boys cheered and hopped around the motel room.

Cas and John had just finished a hunt in Whitefish, Montana while Dean and Sammy stayed with an old friend of John's. It was beautiful there this time of year.

But now that it was over, there wasn't a new hunt yet. No one was dying. There wasn't a creature stalking the woods that John knew about. They were going because Dean had seen a movie where a family was camping and had asked Cas what a camping trip was like.

So they threw the duffel bags back into the car and headed out to Glacier National Park, only forty minutes from where they were staying. John smiled as he made another turn, everyone happy and ready to spend some time camping as a family.

Then John's head spun. So badly he flinched.

Why the fuck had he thought of this as a family camping trip? Mary wasn't here! He was camping with his boys and a friend, not going on a family camping trip!

John forced the guilt away, reminding himself he still had his boys. His kids who were thrilled to be going on their first camping trip. His friend who looked just as happy to join them as the boys were. Mary would be happy the boys were having fun. John needed to snap out of it.

They pulled into the campground around three o'clock in the afternoon, and the last of John's guilt faded into nothing as his boys squealed and Cas turned to look at them with the biggest smile John had seen on his friend's face since he'd met him.

“Can we have a tent?” Dean asked as he peered out the window.

“Tent!” Sammy yelled. “I wanna tent!”

“You don't even know what a tent is,” Dean said with a frown.

“I do too!” Sammy said, fists raised in little boy anger. “It's a fort outside!”

“Oh,” Dean said, obviously flustered. “Yeah, okay, you _do_ know what it is. So do we get a tent, Daddy?”

“Yup, we've got a tent,” John said, then chuckled when the boys cheered.

He unpacked the car as Cas started building the tent with Dean and Sammy helping. John picked up Cas' backpack and duffel, which were much heavier than he remembered them being when they packed the car. In fact, the duffel seemed physically larger than it had before. Cas probably had everything they'd need in there.

John frowned as he hefted it, looking it over as if maybe he'd just forgotten how big it had been. By the time he made it over to the fire pit, he'd forgotten all about the size discrepancy.

The camping trip was a huge success, and John couldn't remember having ever been happier.


	9. Winter 1986

**Winter 1986**

“Daddy, you gotta call Cas!” Dean said, eyes wide, desperation in his tone of voice.

“Cas can't help, kiddo,” John said as he wiped Sam down again.

The boy's temperature was spiking, and the medication hadn't seemed to touch it. He'd stripped Sam's clothes off and was gently wiping a damp washcloth over his heated skin. Sam was listless, and frankly it was scaring the shit out of John.

They were stuck in a snowstorm at Bobby's house, roads closed and zero visibility. He couldn't take Sam to a hospital and no one could make it to Bobby's house.

“Yes, he can!” Dean insisted, eyes welling up with tears. “Just call him!”

“Dean, he can't help,” John said, trying to remain calm.

“He said he'd help!” Dean said, his lower lip wobbling. “Cas said any time we needed him, we should call him, and we really need him!”

“Dean, that's enough,” John said firmly.

“No!” Dean growled, stomping. “Cas can help!”

Sam flinched at the noise, which was probably a good sign. Sam wasn't _that_ far gone. Yet.

“Dean!” John growled right back. He stood up and grabbed Dean by the upper arm, pulling him close. “Your brother is trying to rest. Cas can't come here. There's a snowstorm outside. He can't help. We just gotta do the best we can. If you don't calm down and help, then you'll have to leave the room.”

Dean's face screwed up in frustration, a couple tears making their way down his cheeks. He pulled his arm out of John's grip and stomped out of the room. John was surprised. Sam meant everything to Dean, and he rarely left his brother's side when he was sick.

“Cas!” Dean screamed from downstairs. “Cas! Sammy needs help! Cas!”

John bolted off the bed, down the stairs, and was grabbing Dean before he even realized what he was doing. He shook Dean to get his attention, and Dean looked up at him with fear in his eyes. Just as John realized what an asshole he was being, that he'd actually just shaken his child in anger, that he'd put that look of fear in Dean's eyes, there was a knock at the door.

“What the hell?” Bobby said as he hurried to the front door. “Who the fuck goes out in a goddamn snowstorm?!”

Bobby pulled the door open, allowing snow to come blowing in. When John saw who was standing on the front porch, he forgot to breathe. He stood there with his left hand still wrapped around Dean's arm and his mouth open wide.

“Well, get in here, ya idgit!” Bobby growled, taking hold of the lapels of Cas' trench coat and dragging him inside.

Cas wasn't wearing anything besides what he normally wore, and he looked ridiculous covered in snow and only a trench coat over his clothes to keep the cold away.

“I was on my way here when I got caught in the snowstorm,” Cas said, shaking the snow out of his hair and off his coat. “I was concerned you might not be home.”

Bobby grabbed a blanket from the back of his couch and wrapped it around Cas, who only looked confused over the whole thing before just accepting the blanket.

“Sammy's sick!” Dean said as he ran to Cas and took hold of Cas' trench coat with both hands. “You said you'd help any time we needed you! That's why I called you!”

“Sam's sick?” Cas asked.

John was taken aback by how _unsurprised_ Cas appeared to be. Sure, Cas seemed concerned, but the news didn't quite seem like news to him.

“Can I see him?” Cas asked.

“Upstairs!” Dean said as he took Cas by the hand and started pulling. “Come quick!”

John watched as Cas and Dean went upstairs, then turned to Bobby, who seemed a little puzzled as well. Okay, so it wasn't just John who thought the whole thing was a bit bizarre.

“Should've doused 'im with holy water,” Bobby said with a frown.

John shook his head, then headed upstairs, Bobby not far behind him. As he walked into the spare bedroom, his jaw dropped.

“Sammy's sweating!” Dean said excitedly.

John looked at his children with wide eyes. Sam was in Cas' arms, looking better than he had all day, though still sick. He was sweating, which was what John had told Dean to look for because it meant Sam was getting better.

Cas smiled at John. “His fever must've broken while we were downstairs,” he said, cradling Sam gently in his arms, not a care in the world that Sam was drooling and sweating all over his trench coat. “When I picked him up, he was soaked with sweat.”

John walked up to Cas and reached out, brushing his fingers over Sam's forehead, wiping the sweat away before it could get into Sammy's eyes. “How ya doin', Sammy?” he asked softly.

“I don't want a blanket, Daddy,” Sam replied, as if that answered John's question.

“You don't feel cold anymore?” he asked, feeling hopeful for the first time since Sam got sick.

Sam shook his head, rubbing snot and sweat on the shoulder of Cas' trench coat. “Angel saved me,” he mumbled, eyes drooping closed as he put his head down on Cas' shoulder.

John felt his entire body relaxing. His baby was going to be okay. Although he was surprised that Sam hallucinated. Dean had hallucinated while sick before, but Sammy usually handled being sick better than Dean. John had no doubt Sam had a high enough fever to induce hallucinations, but it was still something that made his stomach clench. He'd almost lost his youngest.

“Told ya Cas would save him,” Dean said with quite a dose of attitude in his voice.

“Dean,” John said in his 'you're pushing it' voice.

“Well I did!” Dean said with a frown.

Bobby cleared his throat. “How about a bath, young man?” he said as he reached down and picked Dean up, walking out of the room before Dean could get himself in trouble.

John looked at Cas and chuckled. “I don't even know how you got here, but according to my kid, you saved Sammy, so the least I could do is make you something hot to eat,” he joked.

“I'm not hungry,” Cas said, “but thank you for the offer.”

“No problem,” John said. “It's nice to see you again.”

The smile on Cas' face warmed John. Again John was taken aback by Cas' blue eyes when the smile seemed to make them even more striking. He could get lost in those eyes.

John chuckled, pulling himself out of his own headspace before he did something silly. “You must be exhausted. I'll take Sammy if you wanna crash on the couch or one of the beds,” he said as he reached out for Sam.

Cas' grip on Sam tightened some and he actually looked slightly panicked. “I don't want to wake him,” he said as he gestured with his chin to the two little fists holding onto his trench coat. “Would you mind if I held him?”

John shook his head as he took a step back. “He's all yours. I'll need to wake him up in about an hour and a half to give him more medicine, but you're right, he should get some rest.”

Cas walked over to the rocking chair in the corner, which had been there since the first time John had stayed and Bobby had insisted a rocking chair was needed in the room if there were young children. John hadn't realized how much he'd enjoy rocking his boys when they were sick or scared after waking from a nightmare. Cas settled in the chair and started rocking, arranging Sammy's legs so the boy would be comfortable.

John grabbed a small quilt from the end of the bed and draped it over Sam's back and Cas' legs. “I'll come check on you in a little while,” he said.

“Thank you, John,” Cas said.

John walked out of the room, then turned around to get one last look at his child. He felt the need to be close to Sam, to remind himself that his kid was alive, but he knew Sam was in good hands. And as he watched Cas rocking Sam, he was moved by the caring look on Cas' face, the way he was gently cradling Sam as if he was something precious.

It hit him hard and fast, nearly knocking his knees out from under him. His chest ached as he realized why he couldn't stop staring at Cas with Sam. He almost couldn't believe it. Thought it would never happen again.

Who in this world was lucky enough to have something like this happen twice in a lifetime?

Cas really cared. About all of them. He got along so well with the boys that all of them were sad to say goodbye each and every time. John had gone on hunts with Cas about a half dozen times since they'd met, and they'd worked so well together that he enjoyed it instead of dreading it like he did with anyone else. Cas was quiet, but he wasn't a pushover. He was competent and fierce when the situation called for it.

John knew what this feeling was. It had been there for a while, but he hadn't paid any attention to it.

He was falling for Cas.

*

The storm lasted another six hours, and it wasn't until the next day that it was possible to go anywhere with a four-wheel drive and snow tires, so they spent a lot of time catching up, eating some great home-cooked food and resting.

Bobby had made hot chocolate and was watching TV with the boys in the living room while Cas and John did the dishes.

Cas handed John a plate to dry. “I had a long talk with Dean last night.”

“Yeah?” John said, amused by how serious Cas could make everything sound. For all he knew, they were talking about politics, but most likely it was about how awesome the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were.

“He told me he misses home,” Cas said bluntly.

John's hands stuttered to a stop. He knew the boys were upset about it, but he'd asked Dean more than once, and Dean had told him he was okay. John sighed. He wished Dean didn't feel the need to sacrifice his own wants and needs, but he did it all the time.

“He told me he lied to you,” Cas said. “He didn't want to hurt your feelings, and he knows you're helping people, so he told you he didn't mind leaving home.”

John put the plate away, then leaned against the counter. “How does he know I'm helping people?” he asked, feeling as if he just got punched in the gut.

“He read your journal,” Cas said, beginning to put the dishes on the rack instead of handing them to John.

So along with that punch in the gut, he received a follow-up kick to the groin. “My journal?” John asked, feeling lightheaded. He'd been very candid about his hunts in that journal, and his little boy had read it all?

Cas wiped his hands off on the towel and turned to John, giving him his full attention. “He worries about you, and he knows you write secrets in your journal, so about four months ago he read it.”

“I..., I gotta talk to him about it,” John breathed, thinking about all the things his kid had read. “He's seven fucking years old!”

“John,” Cas said softly, then waited for John to pay attention. “Dean is a very special little boy. He saw more than he told you when Mary died, but instead of cracking under the pressure, he worked through it himself and became a stronger person because of it.”

“What?!” John said, eyes wide. “What the fuck does that mean?” John wondered if his head was going to explode. He had to do something.

Cas reached up and put a hand on each of John's shoulders, looking him in the eye. “He's okay,” Cas said. “He's talked to me about it a few times, and he decided to handle it in a very mature way. He's okay, John.”

John felt the fear bleed away, the horror of what he'd just heard softening somehow. “Why didn't he tell me? I asked him. I knew he was traumatized by the fire and losing his mom. I-I mean, the kid didn't talk for months, but later he told me it was because the words just refused to come out, not because he..., wait, what the fuck did he see?” John asked, eyes wide.

“He was telling the truth about the words refusing to come out,” Cas said. “It was a lot for a young child to take in, but he lost his voice because he needed time to heal and time to be taken care of. And you did that. You gave that to him.”

“Answer me,” John growled. He didn't want to be complimented right now. He needed to know. “What did he see?”

“He saw the demon's eyes,” Cas said.

“And he told _you_ this?” John asked feeling vulnerable, open and raw to Castiel. “Why didn't he tell me?” It hurt to ask, and he figured the answer would probably hurt even worse, but he needed to know.

“Because he's Dean,” Cas said, his lips twitching into a small smile.

John froze, not even breathing for a moment as that sunk in. Then he let out a chuckle that probably sounded more maniacal than he meant it to. “He's Dean,” he said, nodding as Cas' words penetrated his haze of fear and panic. He huffed out another laugh. “He's Dean fuckin' Winchester,” he said, shaking his head. “I don't know what I'm gonna do with that kid. He just..., I don't know. What the fuck do I do?” he asked, feeling dependent on someone else in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

“You're going to love him and take care of him,” Cas said, leaning closer.

John nodded, wanting nothing more than to do what Cas was saying he should do. Of course he did. His kids meant the world to him. “I've been thinking about the house a lot,” he admitted, shifting the subject as the thought occurred to him. “I know they were happy there, but going back, knowing Mary won't be there,” he started, but then trailed off.

He loved his boys, would do anything for them, but the draw to hunt down evil, to save other people from living through the pain he'd experienced was strong. And it wasn't just Mary he was avenging. If he killed every single evil son of a bitch, his boys wouldn't have to be scared. There wouldn't be anything evil that went bump in the night besides humans.

“I know it sounds selfish,” John said, shaking his head. He looked Cas in the eye. “But the idea of going back to that house, of living where all I'll think about is the fact that my wife was killed in that house, well, I just don't think I can do it.”

“Sell the house,” Cas said softly.

“Huh?” John said, face screwing up in confusion.

“Sell the house, then buy one that's just for the three of you,” Cas said. “In the end, it's just a house, and selling it would give you the money you'd need to get a house that would work for what you need.”

John's head was spinning. The thought had never occurred to him. He remembered Castiel telling him that the boys wanted a stable place to call home even if it wasn't **that** home, but at the time John had taken it as being wherever they were at the time, be it a motel or a friend's house.

In his mind, it had always been a choice of living in the house he'd tried to make a home versus living on the road. And now that Cas said it so bluntly, he felt silly. He'd been so focused on that being home, he hadn't even considered the fact that he could make someplace else home.

“Look for a house in a central location,” Cas said. “Look for something that's not too big to maintain, but that's big enough you each have your own space. It doesn't mean you have to stop hunting. It'll just be a place to call home.”

“Daddy!” Sammy said, running into the kitchen. “Can I have a Popsicle?”

John turned to look at his son, only then noticing that Cas still had his hands on both of his shoulders. Cas let go, but he stayed close.

“Um, yeah,” John said, pulling himself together. “Yeah, go ahead and get one for you and one for Dean.”

“I want orange!” Sammy said.

“You can have orange,” John said, forcing a smile. “But don't forget to ask your brother what color he wants.”

“Okay,” Sammy said as he headed out to the living room.

“Sorry about that,” John said, feeling foolish for falling apart in front of Cas.

Cas reached into the soapy water again, fishing out the silverware. “Everyone needs somebody to talk to.”

“Yeah, they do,” John said softly, grateful to have Cas in his life. In all their lives.

*

John didn't sleep that night. Flat on his back with a child sleeping at each side, his arms going numb because his kids were snugglers, he thought about everything Cas had said.

He wanted his kids to be happy, but he also wanted them to be safe. He couldn't give up on hunting. It wasn't an option after everything he'd seen. And Mary's killer was still out there.

But what if he could have a home base? What if his boys could grow up in a house, having as much of a normal life as they could have, like Mary wanted?

John made a list of pros and cons in his head, along with a bunch of other lists that night. The next morning he called the real estate office in Kansas that had sold them the house originally.

He tried not to think about Cas too much, instead focusing on his words of wisdom, because every time he thought of Cas he felt guilty.

John played with the wedding band wrapped around his left ring finger and tried to imagine what it would be like for the boys to have a home again.


	10. Spring 1987

**Spring 1987**

The look on his boys' faces when they saw the house was worth all the trouble. It had taken two months to get the house in Kansas sold and finalized and another three months of traveling around to find a new place to call home. But it was worth it.

“It's ours?” Dean asked.

“All ours,” John said as he hefted their duffel bags onto his shoulders. “It's empty right now, but we're gonna fill it up with our stuff.”

“I get a bed?” Sam asked. “Just for me?”

John nodded. “We'll go to the store later and you can pick out any bed you want.”

“Yay!” Sammy squealed as he ran to the front door of the house.

It felt right. A part of him had worried that Mary was looking down on him and shaking her head, upset that her babies were living on the road. And there was no doubt his lovely wife was in heaven. Now she'd be proud. He'd be making sure the boys had a place to call home _and_ ridding the world of evil.

*

“Come see my bed!” Sammy said, yanking on Cas' trench coat. “I got a red blanket! I picked it out all by myself.”

John followed Cas and the boys upstairs so the boys could show off their bedrooms. Cas took the time to look at everything the boys showed him, including every single toy Sam had.

“Are you gonna stay?” Dean asked when Cas had finally finished his tour of their new home.

“Cas is gonna stay with us for a week,” John said.

The smile on Cas' face when the boys cheered and danced around was adorable. It was infectious and made John smile too. And then he realized he'd just thought of Cas' smile as adorable and mentally kicked himself for being sappy.

“Who wants pizza?” John asked.

“Me!” the boys yelled.

“Pizza sound good to you, Cas?” John asked.

“I like pizza,” Cas said with a nod.

“Pizza it is,” John said. “I'll go down and order it while you guys pick out a movie to watch.”

“Yay!” the boys cheered again as Sammy reached up and wiggled his fingers at Cas in a 'pick me up' gesture.

John watched as Cas automatically picked Sammy up, as if it was a natural thing for him already, and the three of them went downstairs, comfortable with them when it almost seemed as if he wasn't comfortable in his own skin half the time.

He ordered the pizza on the phone in the kitchen, unable to keep his eyes off Cas and the boys. They seemed so happy, and even though the last two weeks had been the happiest he'd seen his boys since they moved out of the house in Kansas, they seemed even happier with Cas there.

He finished his call and stood in the archway of the kitchen as Cas showed each of their ten VHS tapes to the boys, letting Sam read each title until Sam declared The Great Mouse Detective was the movie they had to watch.

Dean didn't complain even though John knew An American Tail was the one Dean wanted to watch. He never complained. Sure, the boys fought sometimes, but when it came right down to it, Dean let Sam get his way.

“Let's start this movie right now,” Cas said, holding up The Great Mouse Detective, “and maybe Daddy will let you guys stay up late so we can watch An American Tail after that.”

“Really?” Dean asked, eyes widening with hope as he turned to look at John.

“Sure,” John said. “It's not a school night.”

“Awesome!” Dean said, grabbing the movie and setting it next to the TV.

Cas turned to John and smiled that little smile. The one that said he knew exactly what he was doing. John chuckled, shaking his head. Of course Cas had seen Dean's eyes linger on the movie he'd really wanted to see, and it warmed John's heart that Cas had paid attention. Even if Sam fell asleep while the first movie was on, John knew Cas was going to make sure Dean got to see An American Tail.

John sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. They didn't have a house full of furniture yet, but they had the essentials. Cas sat down next to him and settled in to watch the movie. Sam climbed up on the couch next to John and put his head on John's left arm, getting comfortable. Dean climbed up and sat down next to Cas, wrapping his arms around Cas' right arm and kicking his shoes off.

It took a little less than thirty minutes for the pizza to get there, but in that time, sitting comfortably with his boys and Cas, John made a decision he hoped Mary would approve of.

*

John woke up early the next morning, checked on the boys, who were still sound asleep, and headed down to the kitchen. He started the coffee and wandered around the house while it brewed. He checked the spare bedroom and frowned when Cas wasn't there, but when he looked out front and didn't see a car parked in front of the house, he realized Cas must've gone to the grocery store. Cas loved making them all breakfast, and John knew he was low on eggs.

Just as the coffee started draining into the pot, Cas walked in the front door with grocery bags. “Now I can make breakfast,” Cas said as he handed John a few of the bags.

“Can't wait,” John said as he helped put the groceries away. “Never had pancakes as good as yours.”

Cas smiled. “Thank you.”

John walked out front to get the newspaper, cup of coffee in hand, but as he was heading down the driveway, he realized the only car parked at his house was the Impala. Where was Cas' car?

John frowned. He couldn't remember what Cas' car looked like.

He picked up the newspaper and walked back into the house, forgetting about the car just like he had every other time he'd questioned its absence when Cas was around.

*

After breakfast, John asked Cas to watch the boys while he went shopping. He didn't tell Cas why he was going to a department store, but Cas didn't question him either.

John could be a sneaky son of a bitch. Anyone who really knew John could tell you that. What they could also tell you is that when John Winchester sets his mind to something, he's going to do it.

He walked back through the front door two and a half hours later with two full bags, one on each arm. Cas and the boys were playing Chutes and Ladders, and Dean was happily playing it even though he'd outgrown the game when he was six, which meant Sammy had picked it out.

“Hey, guys,” John said.

“Hi, Daddy!” Dean said. “Sammy's winning.”

“I'm winning!” Sammy said as he moved his piece on the board.

“Well,” John drawled as he sat down on the couch, “I'll just have to wait until you guys finish your game to give you your presents.”

“Presents?” Sammy asked, dropping his game piece.

“Yeah, come on over!” John said, patting the couch.

“Presents!” Sammy and Dean both yelled as they scrambled up onto the couch to John's right.

John looked at Cas. “You too!” he said as he patted the space to his left.

“You got me a present?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the side just a bit.

It was so adorable that John's chest ached. “You bet I did. Now get over here!” he said with a smile.

Cas settled in next to John on the couch and John could practically feel the excitement coming from him even though Cas was sitting straight and still.

“Who wants to go first?” John asked.

“Me!” both boys said, but then Dean calmed himself down. “Sammy can go first, Daddy.”

“Aww, that's too bad,” John said, pulling out a brightly-colored box sporting the logo for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, “because Sammy doesn't even like Ninja Turtles.”

“You got me Leonardo?” Dean said, a big smile on his face as he took the box from John. “That's the one I didn't have yet! Now I have all of them! Thanks!”

“You're welcome, kiddo,” John said.

“Can I open it now?” Dean asked.

“You sure can,” John said, “just be careful of the sharp edges.”

“I will,” Dean said as he slid off the couch and started working at opening the box.

“You ready for yours, Sammy?” John asked.

“Yeah!” Sam said, getting to his knees on the couch. John pulled out a stuffed dog and handed it to Sam. “Pound Puppy!” Sammy yelled. “Dean! Look! Daddy got me a Pound Puppy!”

“Dude, that's awesome!” Dean said, pausing in his endeavors to pull the last twisty tie from his own toy. “And it's the color you wanted!”

“It looks like a Dalmatian,” Sammy said, holding it up for Dean to see. “Thanks, Daddy!” he said as he crawled over and hugged John.

“You're welcome,” John said, helping Sam off the couch because there was no way Sam was going to let go of his toy so he could get down without falling. Sam could be stubborn that way.

“Ready for yours?” John asked Cas.

Cas was sitting perfectly straight on the couch, his hands in his lap as if he was on an interview for a job. John nearly laughed at him.

“Yes,” Cas said, voice deadly serious. It was obvious Cas had completely prepared himself for whatever John was about to give him.

John tried with all his might to keep from laughing, but it was hard. Instead he reached into the second bag and pulled out a light blue flannel shirt.

“I hope you don't mind,” John said. “You seem to like my shirts, and I've wanted to see what you'd look like in a shirt that matches your eyes.”

Cas was totally not prepared for the gift. His eyes widened and his mouth opened a little, but nothing came out. John knew Cas would've had no problem rejecting it if he didn't like it, so instead of taking Cas' silence as a bad thing, he unfolded the flannel and draped it across Cas' lap.

“And since you can't wear flannel with slacks,” John said, reaching into the bag again, “I got you some jeans.”

Cas' eyes darted back and forth between the jeans and the flannel as if he'd never seen anything like them before. He slowly reached out and ran his fingers over the flannel.

“Thank you,” Cas finally said, his lips twitching into a small smile.

“I also noticed you checking out my knife on the last hunt,” John said as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a switchblade. “So I had Ron make me another one just for you,” he said as he handed it to Cas.

Cas took the switchblade and ran his fingers over the cold metal. “I didn't get you anything,” Cas said suddenly as he looked up at John, eyes wide.

“This was a surprise,” John said, shrugging. “I just felt like getting you guys presents. You don't have to get me something in return. Besides, you staying here with us is a present in and of itself. We really enjoy having you here, Cas,” he said, turning on the charm and giving Cas a warm smile that usually made women weak in the knees.

Cas looked down at his gifts, then back up at John. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“You're welcome,” John replied, then leaned closer to Cas. Keeping his voice low enough so the boys didn't hear him, he said, “And you'll have an opportunity to try on your new clothes tonight when we have a guys night out.”

Cas appeared puzzled for a moment, as if he was thinking back to something, then shook himself out of it. “Just us?”

“Just you, me, and the best steaks this town has to offer,” John said.

Cas smiled, then glanced at the boys. “What about Sam and Dean?” he whispered.

“The family next door has a teenage daughter,” John said. “Dean's been making eyes at her ever since we moved in. Anyway, she offered her babysitting services, so I asked her to watch them tonight.”

“Oh, okay,” Cas said, looking relieved.

“So is that a yes?” John asked.

Cas nodded. “Yes, it's a yes.”

*

It was a date. John had no intention of it being anything except a date. Castiel? He had no clue. That much was obvious, but damn, did he look stunning in blue, even if it was just a flannel.

“You look great, Cas,” John said as they perused the menu.

“Thank you,” Cas said with a smile. “You look nice tonight as well.”

John had chosen a black and red flannel to go with his black jeans. He didn't want Cas to feel under-dressed for the steakhouse, and he knew he looked good in a flannel and jeans. It had worked on Mary. 

“I've heard the garlic mashed potatoes are good here too,” John commented, and as he looked up from his menu, he saw Cas staring at John's left hand.

“Oh, I like mashed potatoes,” Cas said, forcing his eyes up to meet John's.

The wedding band sitting on his dresser back home had left a tan line on his ring finger. But instead of making mention of it, John just smiled. “Well, you're gonna love the garlic mashed.”

Once their orders were taken, John relaxed in his chair and took a sip of his beer. Cas was people watching and looking at all the decorations on the walls. It was a typical steakhouse with cowboy art on the walls, wrought iron chandeliers, and leather seats. Nothing was particularly interesting, but it seemed to be keeping Cas' attention.

“You know, I feel kinda silly for never having asked this,” John started, “but where did you grow up?”

Cas seemed surprised by the question, but quickly schooled his features. “We moved around a lot when I was younger. I can't call any one place home. I never did settle down anywhere.”

“Is that why you encouraged me to find a place for the boys?” John asked.

Cas nodded. “Humans need a place to call home.”

John chuckled. Cas had a strange way of speaking at times, but John didn't mind. It was just one of the things that made up the unique individual that Cas was.

“True,” John agreed. “I had a place to call home growing up. My father left when I was four, but Mom did everything she could to make up for it. It was something I wanted to give my boys, and even though they had to do without for a while, thanks to you they have it again.”

Cas nodded. “The boys are very happy.”

Their meals came and the conversation turned to how great the steak was and yes, Cas did like the garlic mashed potatoes. John purposely kept the conversation light, steering clear of anything hunting related.

“Thank you, John,” Cas said as they walked out of the restaurant. “I enjoyed that very much.”

“I had a good time too,” John said. Once they got into the car, John put the key in the ignition, but didn't start the car. “Hey, would you mind if I took you someplace else before we head home?”

Cas blinked at him for a few moments, then shook his head. “I don't mind,” he said.

John nodded and started the car. “I can't tell you how much I appreciate it that you talked me into buying the house,” he said as he pulled out onto the street.

“I like seeing all of you happy and alive,” Cas said softly.

John chuckled. If anyone else had said those words to him, it would've been creepy. Why was Cas able to say something awkward like that and get away with it?

“The boys are gonna be starting school soon,” John commented. “I'm looking into getting a job at the auto shop down the street from the school. The money from the sale of the house in Kansas more than paid for the house here and left me a little spending money, but it doesn't pay the rest of the bills.”

“Not many people prepare so far ahead to pay for a house,” Cas said.

John nodded. “My mom said I started saving when I was three and all I had was a dime to put into my piggy bank.”

Cas ran his hand over the leather seat between them. “Your mother taught you well.”

“Yeah, I have her to thank,” John agreed. “With our hard work and help from Mom, we paid the house off by the time Sam was born.”

“Mary worked?” Cas asked, though he didn't sound surprised.

“Yeah, she was always the independent type,” he said as he turned down a dirt road. “She thought it was hypocritical of women to expect their men to work all day, then come home and help around the house, and I always enjoyed helping her out around the house. She was always appreciative. And I always appreciated the hard work she put in at the restaurant.”

“She was a wonderful woman,” Cas said softly.

“Yeah, she really was,” John said, the burning in his eyes, chest, and throat not nearly as bad as it had been even just a few months ago.

“This is beautiful,” Cas said as John pulled into a parking spot at Falls Park.

It was dark out, but the lights throughout the park highlighted the falls in a gentle way. John turned the car off and opened his door. Cas followed suit and they walked down the short pathway to the rocks. John sat down and patted the smooth rock to his right, smiling when Cas wordlessly obeyed.

“The boys and I found this place about a week ago,” John said. “Sammy wasn't too thrilled over it, but Dean liked the sound of the water running over the rocks. I thought it was something you'd like.”

“Thank you, John,” Cas said as he looked out over the falls.

John crossed his legs and rested his hands on the rocks to either side of himself. It wasn't by chance that two of his fingers brushed Cas'. Cas turned, looking down at their hands, then returned his gaze to the falls.

Cas was totally going to fall for him. John just knew it.

*

Castiel became agitated the closer they got to the house. He was nearly on the edge of his seat. John was thankful that there was no traffic and they made it home quickly, because Cas' nervousness was contagious.

“You okay, Cas?” John asked for the fourth time as they pulled down the street his house was on.

“I'm fine,” Cas said tightly.

John frowned. Had he said or done something wrong? It was going great until they got back into the car. Maybe Cas had to take a piss or something.

As soon as John pulled into the driveway, Cas had the door open and was running for the neighbor's house. John put the car in park and scrambled out. If Cas was on high alert, there was something wrong. Cas had instincts that put animals to shame.

John was halfway across the neighbor's lawn when Cas made it to the porch. Cas came to a stop as the door opened, a blonde woman standing in the doorway with an awkward smile on her face.

“Hi,” she said a little too loudly, waving at first Cas, then John. “You don't know me, but I'm Elizabeth's sister.”

John walked up next to Cas, relaxing when he realized Cas was calm and didn't look as if he was about to tear something to pieces anymore.

“There was a family emergency,” the woman said. “Elizabeth called me to come watch the boys. They're fine!”

“My name's John,” John said as he held out a hand.

The woman looked down at his hand as if it was a strangely foreign object. “Oh!” she squeaked, then took a hold of his hand in a grip so tight that John nearly squeaked right back at her. “My name is Hannah,” she said.

Thankfully, she let go of John's hand before she broke anything. “Nice to meet you. This is Cas,” he said, gesturing to the man standing quietly to his right.

“Elizabeth felt really bad about leaving the boys behind,” Hannah said, “and she was worried you'd be upset with her, but I told her not to worry. I have everything under control,” she said as she looked to Cas, a big smile on her face.

“Well, thank you, Hannah,” John said, hoping that Hannah was harmlessly awkward instead of the more dangerous kind. But Cas was still relaxed, and Cas was a great judge of character. Even better than John.

“Sammy fell asleep about an hour ago,” she said, “and Dean is watching a movie about a mouse that sings.”

John chuckled. Dean had insisted upon taking An American Tail with him. He wondered if this woman had been subjected to the singing mouse for more than one viewing.

“Oh!” Hannah said, backing up and looking sheepish. “Come on in,” she said as she held the door for them.

“Daddy!” Dean said as he scrambled off the couch and ran to John, wrapping his arms around John's leg in a bear hug.

“Hey, kiddo, did you have fun with Hannah?” he asked as he pried his son's arms off his legs and picked him up.

“Yeah!” Dean said, nodding. “She colored with me and Sammy _and_ let us watch Fievel twice!”

“She's pretty cool,” John said with a smile.

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, flashing his most charming smile at Hannah.

“You guys must've had a lot of fun,” John said, then looked over at the coffee table, where there were hand-drawn pictures and crayons strewn about. And then he looked at the walls. “So, ah, Elizabeth really likes wreaths.”

Hannah frowned, then looked around the room. “Oh, yes, my, um, sister loves making them.”

“Mrs. Carrigan gave me one too!” Dean said excitedly. “She said she made it just for me!”

“That's awesome, dude,” John said as he set Dean down.

Dean ran to the kitchen and came back with a wreath in his hands, which he held up so John could see it in all its glory.

“Very nice!” John said.

“Smell it!” Dean said, shoving it against John's hands. “Smells sweet.”

John sniffed and nodded. “That's very sweet,” he said. “Now how about you get your stuff together so we can get home.”

“Okay,” Dean said, taking his wreath to the coffee table and gathering the papers, putting the crayons back in the box.

“Thank you very much for watching them,” John said to Hannah.

“They were very good boys,” she said, smiling. “It was my pleasure.”

When John got back downstairs with a sleeping Sam in his arms, Cas was holding Dean, who was holding all the pages they'd colored on.

“Hannah asked if she could have my wreath,” Dean announced, “and I told her she could have it if she took really good care of it.” His son actually winked at Hannah.

John chuckled. His kid was going to be such a ladies' man. “That was very nice of you,” he said.

*

“I had a really good time tonight,” Cas said as they walked to their bedrooms.

“Yeah?” John said with a grin. “Does that mean you'd say yes to doing it again sometime?”

Cas smiled. “Yes,” he said.

“Goodnight, Cas,” John said.

“Goodnight, John,” Cas said.

*

The next morning there was a For Sale sign in the yard of the neighbor's house. Cas said Elizabeth had called while he was sleeping, informing Cas they'd decided to move in with their ailing parents. Elizabeth sent the message that Annie, their teenage daughter, had said to say goodbye to Dean.

John never noticed that the only moving van to come to the house came a month later when the house was sold to the Millers, Mr. Miller looking extremely proud that he'd piloted the large truck over fifteen hundred miles that week.


	11. Winter 1987

**Winter 1987**

Cas stayed with them a couple times during the summer, but he was gone for the most part. John had only taken him on two dates since their first, and Cas still seemed clueless. But John was patient. He could wait for Cas to fall for him.

Dean wasn't nearly as patient.

“When is Cas gonna live with us?” Dean asked as they ate breakfast in the local diner.

Cas, instead of looking shocked or upset, smiled at Dean fondly. “I'm almost doing that already.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “but not really. You don't have any of your stuff at the house.”

“Do you remember when you, your dad, and Sammy were riding around in the car all the time?” Cas asked as he cut Dean's hamburger into four manageable pieces, perfect for little hands.

John watched Cas' movements. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world to cut up Dean's food, and Dean let him do it without insisting he was a big boy and much too old to have a grown up cut it up for him. John wondered if he'd ever lose that sense of awe when he looked at Cas with his children.

“Yeah,” Dean said as he grabbed the ketchup.

“Do you remember having a lot of stuff?”

Dean frowned. “No.”

Cas gently took the ketchup bottle from Dean when there was ketchup covering half the plate. “I don't have a lot of stuff either, so I don't have anything to leave at your house.”

“It's your house too!” Sammy said loudly.

John chuckled. “Sounds to me like we need to get Cas some stuff so he feels more comfortable in our house. What do you think, guys?”

“Yeah!” both boys said, nodding as they looked to Cas.

“I don't really need anything,” Cas insisted as he moved Sammy's drink out of the way of the boy's flailing hands.

“C'mon, Cas,” John said. “We'd like you to feel comfortable,” he said with his most charming smile.

“What should I get?” Cas asked, as if he had no idea what he could possibly need.

John shrugged. “You've only got one change of clothes, so we could get you some more. You could pick out a few movies too.”

“Cas wants a KitchenAid,” Sam said with as much confidence as a four-year-old could muster.

The look on Cas' face was damn near irresistible. If John hadn't been worried he was pushing, he would've leaned over the table and kissed him. Cas apparently _did_ want a KitchenAid, if the sheepish grin and excitement in his eyes was anything to go by.

“They're expensive,” Cas said, the grin fading a little.

Well, John couldn't stand for that. “Huh, well, Christmas _is_ right around the corner. Maybe if somebody promised to stay with us for the holidays, he'd get his wish.”

Cas' eyes widened slightly and the grin came back. “How can I pass up that offer?”

“You're gonna stay?” Dean asked with a mouthful of fries and ketchup.

“Yes, I'll stay for the holidays,” Cas said.

“Yay!” the boys yelled, wiggling in their seats.

“Okay, okay,” John said, holding out his hands in a calming gesture. “Settle down. We're in a restaurant.”

“Yay,” Dean whispered, grinning.

John couldn't stop staring at Cas throughout the rest of their meal. He looked happy, and John was thrilled to be part of the reason for that.

*

Cas living with them was amazing. No, it wasn't thrilling or mind-blowing, but the amazing part was how well Cas fit in. The boys were happier, Cas became more comfortable in their home, and John loved that he had an adult to share things with. If John had any reservations about Cas' place in their lives, the trial period had officially killed them.

John sat on the end of his bed in his boxers and old, ratty T-shirt. It was quarter after three in the morning, but he'd had a bad night's sleep. He was holding his wedding ring in his right hand, staring out the window at nothing in particular.

He wished he could ask her. He wondered if he was just making excuses because he was lonely, but the way Cas just fit into their lives like a missing puzzle piece, the way he cared about the boys, the way the boys had grabbed a hold of Cas' heart like it was theirs before he'd ever met them, well, John hoped Mary would approve.

She was a wonderful woman, and he liked to think he knew her well enough to know what she'd think. John wasn't the type of man to flip flop on decisions, and he'd decided months ago that Cas was what he wanted, for himself and the boys. Mary was an issue he needed laid to rest.

He hadn't been to her funeral. Not only was it too heart-wrenching to think about, but it felt like he was brushing her off by saying goodbye to her to easily. No, she deserved better. He wasn't planning on giving up his quest to kill the son of a bitch that took his wife from him, but he was finally ready to say goodbye to Mary.

“Mary,” John started as he looked down at the ring in his hand, “I can never thank you enough for the years we had together and the two beautiful boys you gave me.”

He felt the familiar tug in his chest. The one that came every time he thought of Mary. Nothing could ever replace her.

A tear ran down his left cheek. “I'll never stop loving you,” he said, “and I want you to know that I'll never let the boys forget you.”

He stood up and walked to his dresser, opening the second drawer from the top. He pulled out a small jewelry box. It had been broken and repaired, and John still couldn't figure out how Jim had been able to make it like new again.

John opened it and put his ring next to Mary's on top of the picture of the four of them, happy and a family, Sammy only two months old.

“I'm not asking for your permission,” John said, “but I'm hoping I have your blessing. Castiel's a great guy. He loves the boys, and I know you can see how much the boys love him. I'd like to promise you that we can give Dean and Sam the family life you always hoped they'd have, but I can't. All I can do is my best, and that's my promise to you.”

John took one last look at the rings, the beautiful woman in the photo who captured his heart and changed his life, then closed the box.

“I'm gonna give Dean our rings when he's ready,” John said. “That kid's gonna be a heartbreaker, for sure. I can see so much of you in him, and I know he'll put your ring on someone's finger and they'll never take it off.”

John smiled as he thought of his son. It should've been painful to see mannerisms and facial features that had obviously been passed to him from Mary, but it wasn't. It made his heart swell with pride whenever Dean cocked his head to the side and used that charming smile on someone because that was all Mary.

“Goodbye, Mary,” John said, then opened the bottom drawer and pushed the box to the back. He wasn't hiding it. He was simply saving it for Dean.

John fell asleep with a smile on his face, not waking up again until seven when Sammy pounced on the bed and announced that Cas was going to make waffles.

*

The boys were home on Christmas break, and John was on a mission to hide all the gifts he'd bought. Cas probably already knew one of the things John had gotten him, but he didn't know about everything. Sam and Dean kept grilling John for clues on what they'd be getting, but John would just smile and say they had to wait.

John walked down the hallway to Dean's room, looking for him. Sam was downstairs playing with his Hot Wheels, but Dean and Cas still weren't up yet.

“...wash the sheets and your pajamas,” Cas was saying. “There's nothing to worry about.”

John held back after catching a glimpse of Cas and Dean sitting on the end of Dean's bed. Dean was slumped over, and John could hear him sniffling, but Cas' right arm was around him.

“Don't tell Daddy,” Dean said.

“If he asks, I'm not going to lie to him,” Cas said gently, “but there's nothing to be embarrassed about. You've had a lot on your mind lately, and your body doesn't know how to handle that, so it's going to do some funny things.”

“I haven't wet the bed since I was three,” Dean said as he leaned against Cas, rubbing his face against Cas' chest and most likely wiping snot and tears on Cas' shirt. “Mommy washed my sheets for me.”

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him onto his lap. John stepped back even more so Dean wouldn't be able to see him, but before he did, he saw Dean's sleep pants were soaked. John's heart ached for him and also swelled with love for Cas as the man held Dean without a care in the world that he was soaked in urine.

“She was a pretty awesome lady,” Cas said, fondness in his voice that John figured had to be there because he cared so much for Dean. Cas had never met Mary, so what he knew of her had to be through John and the boys.

“I miss her,” Dean said. “Don't tell her I wet the bed, okay?”

“I won't,” Cas said.

They sat there for a while, Cas just holding Dean, Dean's sniffles dying down until he was just boneless against Cas when John peeked around the doorjamb.

John went downstairs and started breakfast, politely ignoring the armful of sheets and blankets Cas took to the garage, where the washer and dryer were.

“Dean's taking a bath,” Cas announced as he came back into the house. “I'll get him dressed and we'll be down for breakfast in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Cas,” John said quietly.

Cas touched his shoulder in acknowledgment as he walked by.

*

It was cold outside, especially at night, but the boys were in bed and Cas had smiled when John had offered a beer and a jacket. They were sitting on the porch steps, side by side, nursing their beers.

“You don't have to tell me all the details,” John said, “because I know you told Dean you wouldn't, but I need to know if something's going on with my kid. I need to know why you said he's got a lot on his mind.”

“Why don't you ask him?” Cas said, and coming from anyone else, it would've sounded judgmental, but Cas had a way about him that made it seem like just a gentle nudge. It wasn't tact. It was just Cas.

“I've tried to get him to talk to me about things,” John said sadly. “We used to talk a lot. Before Mary died he told me everything. I couldn't get him to shut up,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “But since Mary, it just seems like he doesn't want to burden me with his shit.”

“Dean puts up a lot of walls,” Cas said. “He's a lot like you in that aspect.”

John snorted. “Yeah, I guess he is.”

“So what's the best way to get you to open up?” Cas asked.

John turned to him, looking him in the eye. It seemed like a loaded question. John couldn't figure out if Cas was trying to ask how he could get more out of John or if he really just wanted John to see how he could get his son to open up.

“I can't get him drunk,” John said.

Cas shook his head. “That's not what brings down your walls.”

John's stomach clenched. It felt as if Cas was looking deep down inside him, seeing everything. He felt vulnerable and a little scared. Did Cas know him better than John thought he did?

“You and Dean are two of the most selfless people I've ever met,” Cas said. “But when it comes to showing your vulnerability, both of you need something from the other person before you'll let them in.”

John shivered, but it wasn't because of the cold. It seemed as if the world had come to a stop, and he and Cas were the only people left. It was quiet, but comfortable in a way that John would never be able to explain. It was like hanging over the edge of a cliff, but the person you trust most in the world has got you and would never let you fall.

It was nice to be known by someone. He'd missed it.

Cas sighed and looked out across the street at nothing. “I once made a decision that led to the death of my best friend. I held him in my arms as he took his last breath while his brother was tortured to the point of insanity.”

John couldn't even breathe. Cas didn't talk about himself or his own life experiences much. He didn't know if he should say anything or just let Cas talk. Cas _had_ to have started this because he wanted more out of John.

“I took care of his brother,” Cas said. “He was a shell of a man, not only because of what they'd done to him, but because his brother was gone. I'd let him curl up with me in bed at night, and he'd cry, shaking and clinging to me because he just wanted to die, but his hands were too damaged to hold a gun.”

John wanted to hold Cas, to somehow make this better, but he stayed still and let him continue.

“I was too weak to do anything for him,” Cas whispered. “I couldn't save his brother, and I couldn't save him.”

John reached over and put his left hand on Cas' right knee. It was a gentle touch, and John didn't know if it would help at all, but he had to do something. He wasn't the type of man who liked to sit helplessly when there was anything he could do.

“Everyone has scars, and they all deal with them in their own ways,” Cas said. “Dean is having trouble with adjusting to being happy.”

“What?!” John said, nearly gasping as he turned to look at Cas.

Cas blinked at him for a moment. “What's the first thing you think about when you imagine being truly happy. Happy with your life, the place you live, and the people you love?”

It hit him like a brick to the face and stole his breath. “He feels guilty for being happy when his mom's dead,” John said, his voice cracking.

Cas nodded. “He's happy at school, likes his friends, loves this house, having a stable place to live, and he's falling in love with the idea that he could feel like he has a new member of the family with me here.”

John looked down at his beer, turning the bottle in his right hand while his left was still on Cas' knee. He shook his head and chuckled. “Sounds a little familiar.”

“I told him I wouldn't tell you about this morning,” Cas said, “so I ask that you use discernment when speaking with him, but out of all the people he could talk to about what he's feeling, I believe sharing your feelings with him will be what he needs.”

John nodded, then squeezed Cas' knee. “I don't know what I did to deserve you, but thanks, Cas.”

“You're a good man,” Cas said.

“I don't know about that,” John said with a huff.

“I do,” Cas said confidently. “Your intentions are good even if the results aren't always what you were hoping for,” he said, then turned to John with a smile. “Sounds a little familiar.”

John smiled and took a sip of beer. “Did it work out?” he asked.

“Did what work out?” Cas asked, then set his empty beer bottle down next to him.

“Were you able to help your friend's brother?” John asked, curious even though he knew the situation sounded like it was heading in a horrible direction.

Cas nodded. “I made it work. He's not hurting anymore.”

John didn't want to ask if he'd put the brother out of his misery. Cas could tell him if he wanted to, but the tone of Cas' voice said he'd salvaged what he could from the situation, and if Cas was content with the results, that was all that mattered.

“If I don't get inside soon,” John said as he patted Cas' leg, “my balls are going to freeze right off.”

Cas chuckled. “Then we'd better get inside.”

John stood up and offered a hand to Cas, which Cas accepted. John purposely pulled too hard and Cas' chest bumped against his. “If you're cold, I've got some really warm blankets on my bed.”

Cas blinked at him for a moment, cocking his head to the side. John watched as Cas worked his way through the words, the meaning and intent behind John's words, then he nodded once. “I'd like that.”

John smacked Cas' back and headed up the stairs to the front door. “Well, c'mon! It's freezing out here!”

John was a perfect gentleman. They stripped to their boxers and T-shirts, got under the blankets, and fell asleep. Cas was the little spoon.

It was the first Christmas Eve John spent with someone in his bed since Mary had left them.

*

“Daddy, wake up!” Dean said as he crawled on top of him and poked at John's ribs.

John groaned, pretending to be still mostly asleep as Sam wriggled around between he and Cas. “I don't wanna get up yet,” he teased.

“But there's presents!” Sam said. “Cas, make Daddy get up so we can open presents!”

John smiled, mostly because his boys didn't seem to care that he and Cas had slept in the same bed, but also because it was great to feel so normal with his kids waking him on Christmas morning.

“Presents?” John said, squinting up at Dean. “There's presents?”

“Yeah!” Dean said. “There's a bunch of 'em!”

“Cas!” Sammy whined as he pulled at the collar of Cas' T-shirt. “I wanna give you your present! Get up!”

Cas chuckled. “C'mon, Daddy, get up!” he said as he sat up and tickled Sam. “We've got presents!” he said as Sam giggled and tried to squirm away.

John grinned. “Should we make breakfast first?” he asked Dean.

“No!” Dean said as he laughed.

John laughed as he stood up, grabbing Dean and throwing him over his shoulder. “Then let's get downstairs and see what we got!”

Sam took hold of Cas' hand and helped him out of bed and down the stairs. John frowned as he walked into the living room and saw more gifts under the tree than there had been when they went to bed. He was a light sleeper. He should've heard Cas get up. Obviously Cas could be a sneaky son of a bitch too.

“Who wants to go first?” John asked.

“Me!” both boys squealed as they hopped up and down, then Dean calmed himself down and pointed at Sam. “Sammy can go first,” he said.

John almost rolled his eyes. Almost.

“I have an idea,” Cas said, and all eyes were on him. “Have you ever played rock, paper, scissors?”

John smiled as Sam's face scrunched up in confusion and Dean said, “I've played that in school!”

“This is rock,” Dean said as he demonstrated to Sam, “this is paper, and this is scissors. Rock crushes scissors, scissors cut paper, paper covers rock. Got it?”

“Um, so if I go like this,” Sam said, expression very serious as he held his hand out as 'paper,' “then you can go like this,” he said, holding his hand out as 'scissors,' “and you'll win?”

“Yup,” Dean said.

“Whoever wins gets to open a present first?” Sam asked.

“Yup," Dean said, nodding.

“Okay,” Sam said.

John knew his kid was smart, but it wasn't until he threw rock to Dean's scissors that he realized Sammy was also a master manipulator. John couldn't be sure, of course, but by the look of concentration on his face and the way he'd watched Dean so carefully, throwing rock confidently, John swore he'd led Dean into throwing scissors so he could beat him with rock. His kid was either a scary-clever genius or very lucky.

“I win!” Sam yelled, already halfway to the presents as if he just knew Dean was going to lose.

Dean frowned up at John. “I thought he was gonna pick paper,” he grumbled, then walked over to the tree and plopped down on his butt next to Sam, excited to see what they were all getting.

John looked to Cas, who was watching Dean with a fond look on his face. “Poor kid,” John said softly enough that the boys wouldn't hear. “Sammy's got him wrapped around his finger, and Dean has no clue.”

Sammy ran back to Cas and held a small wrapped gift up to him. The look on Cas' face melted John's heart. It was obvious Cas had expected Sam would start tearing into his own gifts first. What four-year-old wouldn't?

“For you!” Sam said, a big smile on his face.

“Thank you,” Cas said as he took the gift, then he turned to look at John as if he didn't know what to do next.

John felt a little bad for him. Cas was awkward at the oddest of times. It was like he'd only learned half of what everybody else knew about social interactions. So John took pity on him, grabbed his left wrist, and hauled him over to the couch. They sat down, Cas on John's right, and John nodded down at the package.

“Go for it,” he encouraged.

Cas' lips twitched into a little smile, then he began gently unwrapping his gift. He carefully pulled at the pieces of tape.

Dean stood up, letting out a huff as he walked to Cas and sat down on the coffee table in front of him. “Rip it, Cas!” he said.

Cas froze, his eyes locked with Dean's. The hesitation was nearly a palpable thing in the room. John swore he could feel just how much Cas wanted to do what Dean told him to do.

“C'mon,” Dean said with a grin. “Part of the fun of presents is ripping the paper off.”

“Okay,” Cas said, then started gently tearing the paper.

Dean looked up at John, the expression on his face saying, 'eh, I tried.'

Cas finally got the paper off, then opened the box. He took hold of the long strip of material and held it up, the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

“Here, let me help,” John said as he reached out and took the tie from Cas.

Cas sat there in his pajamas while John knotted the tie, then sat back to admire the way the shades of baby blue brought out the color in Cas' eyes even more.

“I picked it out all by myself,” Sam announced.

“He did,” John said. “Sammy decided you needed a new tie and he looked through hundreds of them before he found the perfect one.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas said as he ran his fingers over the silk.

“You're welcome,” Sam said, proud of himself. “Now you have a nice tie to wear when you go out with Daddy. Your other tie can be your hunting tie.”

John snickered at 'hunting tie.' Cas was the only person he'd ever known who hunted in a suit, tie, and trench coat. He'd never found it odd because Cas just seemed right in it for some reason, but now that he thought about it, yeah, it was odd.

Cas smiled. “I won't wear this one to hunt,” he reassured Sam.

“Me next!” Dean said as he nearly scrambled back over to the tree. He pulled out a wrapped gift that was obviously a book, and it had to have been hand wrapped by Dean because there was enough tape on it to have been the whole roll. "For you," he said as he handed it to John.

"What's this?" John asked as he tore into the package, noting the approving smile on Dean's face as paper and tape went everywhere.

John's stomach clenched as he pulled the last piece of paper from the very old book. The title read, "Incantations and Protective Sigils." It hit him all over again that Dean had read his journal.

"Dean asked me to take him to a book store," Cas said, and John could tell that Cas was trying to calm him down. "He asked me to help him find a book that would help you learn all the symbols you needed to know."

John remembered the few symbols he'd learned, which he'd noted in his journal. Dean had to have known John used them to keep safe, and his smart little boy had figured out that if there were a few, there must be more, and he'd wanted John to know them all.

"Thank you, Dean," John said as he set the book down on the couch next to him and gave his kid a hug.

"Can I read it?" Sammy asked, pointing at the book.

Just as John was about to say it was a grown-up book, Cas spoke up. "That one is for Daddy, but if you look under the tree, you'll find one just for you," he said, and John grinned as Sammy scrambled over to the tree and got to his knees. "It's the one with the dalmatian wrapping paper."

John cringed. What the fuck had they gotten for his baby? Cas was an odd guy, but was he weird enough to get something like an incantation book for a four-year-old?

Sam shredded the paper and John let out a breath he'd been holding as he saw bright colors and a big dog on the front of the book.

"It's not a baby book!" Sammy said with a smile.

"Nope," Cas said, grinning and obviously pleased with himself. "It's a big boy book just for you."

John felt silly for having been worried about it. Cas loved the kids. And even though he was a strange guy, he always had the boys' best interests in mind. Sam flipped through some of the pages, and John could see that the book was meant for a kid Dean's age instead of Sammy, but Sam was already reading just as well as Dean, so it was perfect for the boy.

"Dean," John said, "would you please get the long present standing against the wall with the orange wrapping paper?"

"Okay," Dean said, grabbing the gift and handing it to his dad.

"This one's yours," John said as he held it. "But it's not a toy. This is something that you can only use when you're with me or Cas. Understood?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, serious tone to his voice.

Good, his kid was grasping that this was a big deal. He handed the package back to Dean, and was proud when instead of tearing into it, he sat down on the floor and calmly unwrapped it.

"Is this a gun?" Dean asked, eyes wide as he held the half-unwrapped box with both hands.

"Yes, it is," John said. "It's time you learned how to shoot a gun. That's a .22 rifle."

"Awesome!" Dean said with a big smile.

"We've already talked about guns and gun safety," John said, "but we're gonna talk about it all over again, and then you're gonna behave yourself while we're practicing or it's going to get taken away until you're responsible enough to shoot it."

"I'll be responsible with it," Dean said, a determined look on his face as he pulled the rest of the wrapping paper off. "When can we go practice?"

"I wanna go!" Sammy said.

"This is just for Dean right now," John said, chuckling when Sammy pouted. "When you're old enough, we'll teach you how to shoot a gun too."

"I'm old enough now," Sam said with a frown.

"C'mere," John said, patting his lap.

Sam hesitated, but then decided to do as he was told. John picked him up and set him down on his right knee.

"Remember when we talked about how sometimes one of you gets to do things the other one doesn't get to do?" John asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, dejected tone to his voice.

"You were able to go on that ride last week, but Dean was too big, remember?" John asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, his little body perking up a little as he remembered something he could do that Dean couldn't instead of the other way around.

"Well, this one is something for Dean," John said. "You'll be able to do it when you're older, but right now we need to be happy for Dean. Okay?"

Sam thought about it a moment, then nodded as he turned to Dean. "Will you tell me all about it afterwards?" he asked.

Dean smiled. "Of course!" he said, as if the thought of not telling Sam had never been an option. Which it probably wasn't.

"Okay," Sam said.

"Good boy," John said as he gave his kid a hug. "Now how about you open the present I got you. The one in the yellow wrapping paper."

"Okay!" Sam said, hopping off John's knee and continuing his hop over to the tree.

"Thanks, Dad," Dean said softly.

"You're welcome, kiddo," John said, happy to see Dean excited about his present.

There were a lot of things both boys were allowed to do, and it wasn't all that often Dean got to do something just for himself. Even though Dean never seemed to care, it was times like this when John could see that Dean needed something just for him every once in a while.

Cas stood up and walked to the tree, then headed back with a small box in his left hand, which he held out for John. John chuckled as he took the box. Cas sat down next to John again, his body angled toward John so he could easily watch him.

"For me?" John asked. He heard the boys tearing into some of their other presents, but he was focused on Cas and his own gift.

Cas nodded, a little bit of apprehension on his face, which John wasn't used to seeing. It seemed as if Cas had put a lot of thought into the gift.

John grinned and pulled the top half of the box up and off of the bottom half. Inside was a watch with a leather band. It was made for an active person, not someone who sat in an office all day long. It would withstand hunting as long as John didn't fall down into a quarry. Which he really hoped would never happen anyway because the watch would probably fare better than his head.

"Thanks, Cas," John said as he pulled the watch out of the box and fastened it to his left wrist.

"Now you have no excuses," Cas said with a smirk.

John felt himself blushing. There had been a couple of hunts they'd been on where John had failed to make it to a checkpoint on time, not because he was injured, but because it was nighttime and he hadn't been able to tell what time it was. Cas had given him a hard time, and John always wondered if Cas had known all along he was okay and just got a kick out of teasing him, but now he had a watch. No excuses anymore. Cas wanted to know John was okay.

"Cas!" Dean said as he tugged on Cas' sleep pants. "Open the big one!"

Cas turned to John. "May I?" he asked.

John chuckled. "You know it's yours. Open it."

Cas took Dean's hand, and the two of them got to their knees by the tree. Dean helped Cas drag the big box out from under the tree.

"Would you like to help me open it?" Cas asked.

"Yeah!" Dean said, and the two of them tore into it, paper going everywhere as John and Sammy laughed.

It was the Kitchen-Aid. Cas knew it, and so did the rest of them, but the joy on Cas' face as he pulled all the parts out, read the directions, and touched every piece warmed John's heart and made him fall that much harder for the man.

*

The boys were in bed, both of them out like a light soon after eating the dinner Cas had made using his new Kitchen-Aid, and John was finishing up the dishes, having insisted that Cas should relax on the couch and pick a movie since he did all the work making that awesome dinner.

John put the last dish away, wiped the counters down, then walked into the living room, grinning because Cas was mesmerized by whatever was on TV. Cas smiled as John eased himself down onto the couch next to him.

"What're we watchin'?" John asked, purposely sitting close enough that his left leg was against Cas' right leg.

"A Christmas Story," Cas said, not bothered at all by the closeness. But then again Cas never seemed to mind when John or the boys got close.

"You've never seen it before?" John asked.

Cas looked back at the screen. "No. I've heard about it, and a long time ago somebody told me I needed to watch it, but we never got around to it."

John knew who Cas was talking about. It was that friend he'd held in his arms. The one that died. Cas' voice always sounded just a little different when he talked about him. James must've been an amazing guy. John wished he could've met the man who Cas obviously cared so much about. And his brother Robert as well.

Cas had said he'd been told about the movie a long time ago, but A Christmas Story had only been out a few years. John felt bad for Cas yet again when he realized the last few years probably seemed like an eternity for Cas without his friend.

They sat quietly, watching the movie, chuckling at the more ridiculous parts. John knew it was a cliche move, but that didn't stop him from yawning, stretching, and putting his left arm behind Cas, resting it partly on the couch, partly on Cas' shoulders.

Cas leaned against him, never taking his eyes off the TV. John felt the excitement growing in his chest. He'd been around Cas enough to know that the man wouldn't punch him in the face for making a pass at him, but John didn't want to rush things. Cas was special, and he deserved to be courted.

"You comfortable?" John asked. "I could grab a blanket if you're cold."

"Don't leave," Cas said, his voice as casual as it ever got, which wasn't much, but he also reached over and rested his right hand on John's thigh. "I like watching movies with you."

The family was eating their duck dinner when John started gently playing with Cas' left shoulder with the tips of his fingers. And as the credits rolled, Cas turned to John, a smile on his face.

"It was even better than... James described it," Cas said.

John chuckled. "I'm glad you liked it, trying to ignore the aching in his chest at the way Cas always seemed to hesitate when he said his friend's name.

"Can we watch another movie?" Cas asked.

"Only if you pick," John said.

Cas picked up the remote control and flipped through the stations, finally settling on another Christmas movie. John wasn't paying that much attention to it, instead just enjoying the warmth and companionship.

John leaned closer to Cas, and just as he was about to whisper Cas' name in his ear, Cas turned, their noses bumping. Cas' eyes widened, but he didn't pull away.

"Hi," John said, lips twitching into a bit of a smile.

Cas was so close their eyes were crossing. "Oh," he said, little more than a whisper.

"Can I kiss you, Castiel?" John asked, keeping his voice low and almost growly.

Cas stared at him for a moment, then nodded, his nose bumping into John's again. "Yes," he said.

John hesitated, but only to add to the anticipation. He moved forward and touched his lips to the corner of Cas' mouth in a gentle kiss, smiling against Cas' lips as he heard the man gasp.

Cas' eyes fell closed and he leaned in as John pulled away, lips searching out John's. John cupped the back of Cas' head with his left hand, pulling him even closer as he met Cas' lips in a kiss.

John groaned as he licked the seam of Cas' lips, which opened easily for him. Cas took hold of John's shirt with his left hand, pulling him closer. Cas wasn't the best kisser John had ever experienced, but he made up for it in enthusiasm.

As John wrapped his arms around Cas' middle and pulled back, Cas eagerly climbed onto John's lap, straddling his legs and pushing his face against John's just a little too hard.

But John didn't care. He had a writhing Cas on his lap. It's what he'd been dreaming about for a long time. He reached down and palmed Cas' erection through the sleep pants, smiling into the kiss again as Cas' body jerked and he bit John's lip.

"I'm sorry," Cas said as he pulled back. "Did I hurt you?"

John licked his lip, tasting a little blood, then ran his fingers over Cas' erection, chuckling darkly as Cas' eyes closed and his hips twitched. John took advantage of Cas' distraction and threw Cas down onto the couch to his left, then followed him, getting between Cas' legs and dropping down onto the smaller man, a hand between them as he reached into the sleep pants and wrapped his hand around Cas' cock.

"Oh!" Cas gasped, back arching as he tried to get more.

John jacked Cas' cock a few times as he sucked on Cas' neck. Cas' cock was twitching and his hips were thrusting up in an uneven rhythm, as if he wanted to fuck up into John's hand, but couldn't move because of John's weight.

"John!" Cas yelled as he came, a moaning whine coming from him as he shook, eyes open wide as if he was surprised.

John chuckled. "Been a while?" he asked.

"Um, I-ah, yes," Cas said, inarticulate like John had never seen him.

John pulled his hand out of Cas' sleep pants and licked his fingers clean, grinning as Cas held his breath, eyes locked on John's tongue. When his fingers were as clean as they were going to get, he leaned in and kissed Cas, pushing his tongue into Cas' mouth and sharing the taste. Cas grunted, his hips pushing up against John again.

When he finally pulled back, Cas looked dazed but sated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I liked that," Cas said.

John chuckled. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he said, unable to stop himself from placing gentle kisses on Cas' jawline.

"Oh," Cas said, body jerking as he awkwardly tried to make eye contact with John, "do you want to ejaculate now?"

John snorted, trying to keep in the laughter, and finally couldn't. He pushed his face into the space between Cas' neck and shoulder, laughing as he wrapped his arms around Cas.

"Did I say something wrong?" Cas asked.

John pulled back, still chuckling as he looked down at Cas. "Nope," he said, then leaned down and kissed Cas, keeping the kiss soft as Cas got over his concern over saying something inappropriate, his body relaxing as he focused on the kiss instead.

Cas reached up and wrapped his arms around John, shoving his tongue into John's mouth. It surprised John because there was no finesse, but it was all Cas, so he didn't try to stop him.

John started rocking against Cas, getting enough friction that he could come if he kept it up. "This okay?" he asked against Cas' lips.

Cas nodded instead of speaking, too busy trying to shove his tongue down John's throat. It was odd, and John wondered for a moment if Cas had ever done this before. He _had_ come awfully fast. But then again Cas was an odd guy and John was probably reading into it too much.

John sucked on Cas tongue and grinned when Cas whined into his mouth, his body surging up underneath John. He figured Cas got a huge kick out of that, so he sucked harder as he reached between them and shoved their sleep pants down. He took a hold of their erections, a little shocked to find that Cas was already rock hard again, and jacked the both of them.

Cas writhed beneath him, whimpering into the kiss and scratching at John's back through the shirt. It was amazing and raw in a way he'd never experienced with anyone before.

Suddenly, Cas pulled away from the kiss, eyes wide and mouth open as he bucked up, coming again all over John's hand and their stomachs, looking deep into John's eyes. John came right then and there, and he swore that it was only because of the look in Cas' eyes and the way Cas was coming apart underneath him instead of John's own hand on his dick.

John's own orgasm was almost like an afterthought. He was too busy watching Cas, how beautiful his eyes were, the way he was panting, chest heaving, the way his cheeks were flushed and his hair was even messier than usual.

"I liked that even more," Cas said, smiling up at him.

John chuckled, then leaned down and gave Cas a kiss on the end of his nose. "Will you sleep with me again?" he asked. "I promise I'll clean the both of us up first."

Cas' smile grew even bigger. "Yes," he said.


	12. Spring 1988

**Spring 1988**

Cas had left a few days after Christmas and hadn't been back since. John and the boys missed him, but Cas never stayed away long before, so they went on with their lives.

The boys were both in school and John worked when he could at the local auto repair shop, going on hunts when the boys either had vacations or could stand to miss a little school.

John pulled into a motel at a little after two in the morning. The boys were staying with Bobby while John followed something that was sucking the internal organs out of bodies and leaving everything else behind.

He dropped his duffel bag on the bed and had just started stripping when there was a knock at the door. John grumbled as he walked to the door, tossing his shirt over a chair as he went.

"What the hell do y-oh!" John said, going from pissed to surprised as he opened the door to find Cas standing there.

"I saw your car out front," Cas said, voice raspy and cracking.

"What happened?" John said as he quickly took stock of Cas. 

He couldn't see any blood, but there were bruises on Cas' neck and he had raccoon eyes. He looked tired, worn out, and in pain.

"Come in," John said reaching out for Cas, but keeping his touches gentle. Cas hissed as John ushered him into the room. "Where are you hurt? Do I need to stitch anything up?"

Cas shook his head, stumbling a little as he got to the middle of the room. John kept his hands at Cas' sides in case the man fell or passed out.

"Let's get you out of these clothes," John said. "I wanna make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," Cas said, batting at John's hands awkwardly. "I'm tired. I need to rest," he said as he stumbled toward the bed.

John helped Cas go down slowly so he didn't injure himself more, but Cas hissed and flinched. "Cas, I have to see if you're okay," John said firmly.

"Jus' need t'rest," Cas said, eyes already closing even though his feet weren't up on the bed. His head flopped down onto the pillow and he was out like a light.

John panicked for a moment, pressing two fingers to Cas' neck, then breathing a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse. It was strong, which given how shitty Cas looked was a bit odd.

While Cas slept, John gently worked him out of his clothes, confused when he found only mild bruising. When he pushed Cas over onto his stomach, he gasped. Just to the right of Cas' spine there was a long line, a raised scar with red and puffy skin surrounding it.

John wouldn't say it looked infected, but there was something odd about it. It was obviously healed, but he couldn't figure out why the surrounding tissue looked as if the wound was fresh. There were no breaks in the skin, no blood, but something was definitely wrong.

Cas didn't make a noise or move as John gently touched the skin, which was a little worrying, but Cas was exhausted and possibly had passed out instead of just fallen asleep, so John just continued undressing Cas.

He covered Cas with a blanket, then sat on the bed next to him with his back to the headboard. He watched Cas all night, catching himself only a handful of times when his eyes drooped, but for the most part keeping watch over him.

*

Cas let out a moan as he woke up around six hours later, and John was immediately up and hovering over him. He blinked up at John, confused for a moment, then wiping at his eyes.

"Here," John said, holding a couple pills out to Cas.

"What are these?" Cas asked, wincing as he pulled himself up, putting his feet on the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Pain medication," John replied.

Cas hesitated, and John very nearly shoved them down Cas' throat, but then Cas took them, pushed them into his mouth, and dry swallowed them. "Thank you," he said, voice a little better than it had been the night before.

"What happened?" John asked, sitting next to Cas on the bed.

"I fought with a creature a few days ago," Cas said, his speech halting. "Then I traveled a long way to get here. I should've stopped and rested, but I needed to be here."

"Why were you coming here?" John asked. "I didn't ask for help. You should've crashed wherever you were."

"Had to be here," Cas said.

"Why?" John asked.

Cas looked up at him, frowning, then closed his eyes and sighed. "I just wanted to see you."

John didn't really think that was the reason, but he didn't have the heart to push Cas anymore. "Well, I'm glad you made it. That wound on your back. Did you get that from the creature?"

"Yes," Cas said, nodding slowly. "It wasn't entirely physical, and it's taking longer to heal than I anticipated."

"Can I do anything?" John asked.

Cas shook his head. "No. I just need to rest. You're here for a hunt, and the thing you're hunting will be asleep for the next two days. You won't be able to find it until it awakens. That will give me enough time to heal so I can go with you."

"Cas, this is gonna take a little longer than two days," John said, gesturing to Cas. "I can take care of the thing alone."

"No, you cannot," Cas said wearily, eyes opening, then slowly closing again. "I'll be better in two days. You _will_ wait for me," he said, then turned and dropped his head back onto the pillow, falling asleep again.

John frowned as he put a hand on Cas' naked back. The man was still warm, but not too warm, which was a good sign. If what Cas said was true, then he hadn't been badly wounded physically. John knew full well there were creatures that could attack a soul without damaging the body, so taking Cas to the hospital would do nothing.

He couldn't stand just waiting around to see if Cas would get better, so he pulled out the book Dean had given him for Christmas and began drawing healing sigils on Cas' back in holy water. It wasn't much, but John needed to do it.

John didn't know all there was to know about stuff like this, but when each of the symbols glowed white for a moment as they dried, he figured Dean had done a very good job picking out a useful book. He'd have to remember to thank his kid again.

*

Cas woke again around six that evening. He'd been sleeping nonstop for sixteen hours, save the brief few minutes they'd talked around eight that morning. As Cas sat up, John got a good look at his back.

"It's gone!" John blurted as he stood up from the table and walked to the bed. He needed a closer look.

Cas nodded. "I needed rest. As I said, the wound wasn't primarily physical."

John leaned over and ran his fingers over the skin that had only hours before looked inflammed and damaged.

"What did that to you?" John asked as he pulled back.

"A creature," Cas said.

John snorted. "Okay, if you don't feel like talkin' about it just say so."

"I'm hungry," Cas said.

John looked down at him, surprised by the bewildered expression on Cas' face and the confusion in his tone of voice.

"Well, you've been a sleep for sixteen hours," John said. "Of course you're hungry."

Cas still looked a little confused, but he nodded. "Yes, I need protein. Carbohydrates. And water."

"You stay here," John said as he grabbed his shoes and quickly shoved his feet in without lacing them. "I'll grab us something."

"A lot of food," Cas said, a worried look on his face, as if he was trying not to panic.

"So are we talkin' an adult-sized meal or five of them?" John asked.

"Five," Cas said, "and get something for yourself."

John laughed, assuming Cas was joking, but Cas just blinked at him. "Okay, stay put. I'll be back as soon as I can."

John hurried back, worried about Cas. He was an odd guy, but Cas' behavior was weird even for him. He walked back in the door twenty-three minutes later and found Cas drinking water from the faucet, his head under the tap.

"I brought a few gallons of water," John called out to him.

Cas turned off the tap and briskly walked out to the table. He grabbed the hamburger as John was setting it on the table and took a huge bite of it, without even bothering to remove the paper.

"Cas!" John exclaimed, reaching out and pulling the paper off the hamburger.

"Hungry," Cas said, chewing the burger and paper, then swallowing just as John got the paper off the rest of the burger in his hand.

John had no doubt Cas would've eaten more paper had he not taken it off. Cas was obviously starving. "Sit down," John said as he put his hands on Cas' shoulders and guided him down onto a chair.

Cas ate three burgers and drank a half gallon of water by the time John was three bites into his burger, but he was slowing down.

"How long's it been since you ate?" John asked.

"Hmm?" Cas hummed as he looked up at John, almost as if he'd forgotten John was in the room.

"When was the last time you ate?" John asked.

"Oh," Cas said, then frowned as if he was thinking hard about it. "Before I started hunting the creature."

John kicked himself for being too vague with his questioning yet again. He'd never known anyone who answered questions like Cas, and sometimes it was frustrating, but John had gotten used to it for the most part.

"Listen," John said as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I think you should see a psychic. If the creature did something to your soul, a psychic might be able to help."

"I'll be fine by tomorrow morning," Cas said confidently, then belched loudly, pushing his fourth and fifth burgers aside and grabbing the fries. "Then we're going to hunt the creature you're after while it's still groggy from it's nap."

John didn't bother arguing. Cas was a stubborn man, perhaps even more stubborn than John. And even though it was frustrating at times, it was part of what he loved about Cas.

The phone in the room rang, making john frown. He stood up and walked to the phone, mentally running through the list of people who knew he was at the motel and feeling a bit of panic run through him as he remembered Bobby was watching his kids. He hoped the boys were okay.

"John Winchester," John said.

"Hey, Johnny," Bobby said.

"Bobby, everything okay?"

Bobby sighed and John heard Sammy crying in the background. It was a soft cry, which reassured John. Sam wasn't the type of kid to suffer in silence, so if he was really upset, he'd have been screaming his head off.

"Sam says he had a nightmare and his head hurts," Bobby said.

John ran his fingers through his hair. Sam had been having trouble with headaches for a few months now. He'd taken the kid to the doctor, but they couldn't find anything wrong and suggested less television, more outdoor activities, and a better sleep regimen. All of which John thought they were doing well anyway.

"You want me to talk to him?" John asked. Usually Sam wanted Dean when he had a headache, but if he'd had a nightmare, maybe Dean wasn't enough to calm Sammy down.

"Well, here's the thing," Bobby said awkwardly. "Sam's askin' for Cas, and he insists Cas is stayin' with you."

John winced. His kid scared him sometimes. If Sam was his only child, he'd have brushed it off as that strange intuition kids seem to have, but it was in sharp contrast to Dean. Not for the first time, John wondered if that thing that killed Mary had done something to his youngest.

"Cas _is_ staying with me," John said. "He's helping me out on the hunt."

"Oh," Bobby said, sounding surprised. "Well, put 'im on then!"

John would've chuckled at his friend had it not been such an odd conversation. Instead he turned to Cas. "Hey, Cas," he started, but Cas was already walking toward him and took the phone from him.

"Hello, Sam," Cas said, voice too serious given he was speaking to a four-year-old child, as always.

John wanted to listen in, but shook himself and walked back over to the table, sitting down and finishing his fries and soda.

"I'm hunting with Daddy," Cas said, voice soft yet confident.

John froze. He'd never talked like that around Sam, but maybe Dean had slipped and called it hunting. John always referred to his hunting trips as 'helping some friends.'

"You don't need to worry," Cas said, voice even lower, so much so that John had to strain to hear him. "I'll make sure Daddy gets home safe."

John frowned. He'd have to talk with Dean. He must've said something to scare Sam. Even though Dean had read the journal, John had made it clear that Sam was too young to understand it and that it would be too scary. Dean had promised he wouldn't tell Sam, but kids could easily slip up and blurt things without thinking.

"I'll be okay too," Cas said. "I love you too, Sammy."

John's chest tightened at the words, the clear affection in the tone of voice. He'd heard the boys say they loved Cas, and had heard him say it back, but it never failed to make his chest tight. He hadn't told Cas he loved him yet, but John really did. He loved Cas so much it could make him dizzy if he thought about it too long.

Cas sat back down at the table and resumed inhaling his fries. "Sam had a nightmare," he explained. "It was about a creature hurting you. He wanted to make sure I knew to look out for you.'

"Thanks, Cas," John said.

"For what?" Cas said, tilting his head.

John nearly laughed at him. Of course Cas had no idea why John would thank him for loving his kids. "Thank you for reassuring my kid."

Cas shoved more fries into his mouth. "You're welcome," he said.

*

Cas and John made it back to the motel around eleven thirty at night, having killed the creature that had been eating internal organs. They'd found the thing, but Cas being there had saved John from a nasty fall. He wouldn't have died, but it would've been an inconvenience and he likely wouldn't have been able to kill the creature until it had taken more lives.

They were both worn out by the time John pulled into the parking lot, but the hunt was a success, and that always energized John to an extent. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon.

John tossed his boots into the corner and unbuttoned his overshirt, then tossed it over a chair. Cas was standing awkwardly in the middle of the motel room.

"I should go so you can get a good night's sleep," Cas said.

John unbuckled his belt, slid it out of the loops and draped it over the chair he'd tossed his shirt onto. "Cas," he said, then took a couple steps toward the man, "stay?"

Cas glanced toward the bed, which was king-sized and the only bed in the room. John may have been reading too much into it, but he liked to think he knew some of the vague expressions on Cas' face by now and it looked as if Cas wanted to stay.

"Wouldn't be the first time we shared a bed," John said, using that charming smile he knew worked so well.

Cas' lips twitched into a small smile. "Okay," he said.

"You hungry?" John asked.

"No," Cas said.

"You tired?" he asked as he took another couple steps toward Cas.

"No," Cas replied.

John took a couple more steps and stopped directly in front of Cas. Close enough to touch. He reached up and pushed the trench coat off Cas' shoulders. Cas' eyes widened just a little bit and his breathing became more shallow. John tossed the trench coat across the room, not too bothered that it landed on the table instead of the chair.

He leaned forward, getting close enough that he could smell the shampoo Cas had used that morning. John pulled the tie loose, the one that was designated as his hunting tie instead of his date tie, and soon it was on top of the trench coat.

As he started unbuttoning Cas' shirt, Cas' breath stuttered and he surged forward, grabbing John's head and kissing him roughly. John kept working on the buttons, closing his eyes and letting Cas control the kiss. Again it was messy and no finesse to speak of, but John couldn't have cared less. And then Cas whimpered into the kiss as his hips bucked against John's.

"Hey," John said with a chuckle as he pulled away. "Let's go a little slower this time."

Cas looked a little dazed, lips wet and chest heaving already. John pushed the shirt off Cas' shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

John wrapped his arms around Cas and rubbed his nose over Cas' jawline. "That okay with you?"

Cas nodded. "Yes," he said, closing his eyes and baring his neck to John.

John smiled, then nibbled Cas' neck. He hadn't pegged Cas as a neck man, but the noises Cas made as he sucked a hickey into the skin of Cas neck confirmed it. John walked backward, taking Cas with him. He felt Cas' hands between them, trying to get John's jeans undone. His movements were sure and soon John was stepping out of the jeans, only his boxers, socks, and undershirt left.

As John lowered the two of them to the bed, John got the distinct feeling that Cas was allowing him to do it instead of John having the upper hand. He'd never noticed it before, and he felt a little silly for thinking about it when Cas was ready and willing beneath him, but the feeling was sudden and dizzying. He was taller, better built than Cas, and Cas never spoke of being in any sort of armed forces. All said and done, John should've felt as if Cas was an just an eager participant, not someone who was holding something in check to allow John to maneuver him in place, to manhandle him onto the bed.

But then Cas was looking up at him with the bluest eyes John had ever seen, touching his face like he was something precious, and was running his hands over John's sides, as if he wanted more but didn't want to push. John forgot about the sense of power he'd felt moments before.

Instead he focused on Cas, his silly musings dismissed. He loved the man below him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with this man. Sure, Cas was an odd guy, but John wouldn't have him any other way.

John leaned on his left elbow, holding himself up so he could run his right thumb over Cas' lower lip.

"Tell me what you want, Cas," John said, then kissed the corner of Cas' mouth. They were close enough that John could feel the heat from Cas' breath on his chin.

"I want you to fuck me," Cas said.

John chuckled. It slipped out of him before he could stop it. It wasn't the words Cas used, it was the way he said them, like he really didn't think John knew that's where this was headed, so he was answering John's question instead of using dirty talk.

Cas frowned, which only made John laugh harder. "Did I...?" Cas started, but John stopped him with a kiss.

When he pulled away from the kiss, he was still smiling down at Cas. "I love you, Cas," John said softly.

Cas' lips twitched into a little grin. "I love you too, John," he said, as if he couldn't imagine anything else being true.

John chuckled again. He'd been in love before. He knew proclaiming his love for the first time wasn't accompanied by trumpets or confetti, but the way Cas said it as if it was already just a given, as if they'd already been saying it for years, well, it threw John a little bit. But in the best of ways. He'd felt so comfortable with Cas for a long time now. And this only proved to him it was meant to be.

"So, fucking," John said, trying to keep his laughter in check.

Cas nodded. "I want to do that."

John kissed the corner of Cas' mouth. Cas had always been this strange mix of innocence and mass amounts of knowledge. Actually, no. John couldn't call it innocence, but he didn't know what else to describe it as. Cas wasn't naive, and he wasn't some stupid kid with no clue what he was doing, but he also wasn't like anyone John had ever met. Whatever it was, it was Cas.

Cas smiled, leaning into his touches. "I liked what we did on the couch. I'd like more."

John had just assumed Cas had some experience with sex, but once he thought about it, remembered how eager yet awkward Cas' kisses had been, how quickly he'd come, John realized there was a good chance Cas had never been with anyone before. Or maybe he'd just never been with another guy. He wasn't timid, but again it was that odd thing John couldn't put his finger on, and for all John knew Cas could've been with tons of people before him. John didn't care. Cas was _his_ now.

It was obvious Cas was up for pretty much anything, and John had no doubt that he'd be sitting on the floor with a black eye if Cas really didn't want this. Cas was a competent hunter and didn't do something he really didn't want to do it, but all the same, John felt an overwhelming desire to make this good for Cas, to ease him into it and enjoy every minute they had together.

"Well," John said, "I suppose all we need now is lube."

Cas grabbed his arms as John tried to get up, stopping him. "Check my right pocket."

John chuckled. "Really?" he asked, amused.

Cas nodded, so John reached into Cas' pocket and chuckled when he wrapped his fingers around a bottle of lube.

"You're amazing, you know that?" John asked as he set the lube aside and wrapped his arms around Cas, kissing him deeply.

Cas opened his mouth to John, but instead of shoving his tongue down John's throat, he ran his tongue over John's, already more sure of his movements and not nearly as awkward.

John felt Cas reaching between them to undo his own slacks, but John pulled back and took a hold of Cas' wrists. "May I?" John asked as he glanced down at Cas' slacks.

Cas nodded. "Yes," he said, pulling out of John's grasp and laying his arms at his sides.

John held himself up with a hand at either side of Cas' torso, then started at Cas' neck, nibbling and kissing down to Cas' right nipple, licking it. Cas gasped, his back arching as he pushed his chest up to John's mouth.

Cas groaned as John mouthed at his nipple, and John could feel Cas' erection, hard against his stomach. John kissed over to the other nipple and sucked, flicking the tip with his tongue, enjoying the whimper coming from the man beneath him.

John had always thoroughly enjoyed responsive lovers. He wanted to know that what he was doing felt good, and he had always been very in tune with any noise or movement.

Cas was even easier to read in bed than on a hunt, and that was saying quite a lot. They'd had a great working relationship with hunts from even the first time, but Cas in bed was even better.

John kissed his way to Cas' navel, then stuck his tongue in. Cas twitched away, and as John looked up at him, Cas was grimacing. John immediately added navel play to his 'don't do that' list in his head.

Instead, John kissed Cas' tummy in apology, smiling when Cas immediately relaxed and spread his legs a little more. John slowly unbuttoned and unzipped Cas' slacks, eyes on Cas' face the whole time. Cas was tense, but it was the good kind of tense. He was turned on and fighting with himself to stay still and let John get his clothes off.

Once again John felt that sense of power, like something bigger than he could imagine, but only a moment later he forgot about it as he pulled the slacks and boxers down enough to kiss the cut of Cas' right hip. Cas flinched, but instead of a grimace on his face, there was a tiny smile. John added the cut of Cas' hip to the 'fun to play with another time' column. Either Cas was ticklish or that spot was a huge turn-on for him. Both of which would be a blast to play with.

John slowly pulled the clothing down, watching Cas' face as his cock was finally free of the slacks and underwear. John pulled Cas' clothes down until they were at his mid thighs, then licked the underside of Cas' cock.

"John!" Cas gasped as he bucked up against John's face.

John chuckled softly. "You like that?" he asked, only so he could see Cas' response.

He wasn't disappointed. Cas nodded, eyes wide, mouth open. "Please do it again," he said.

"Like this?" John asked, then licked the underside again, only this time he sucked the head into his mouth.

"Mmm-ah!" Cas yelped as he came, hips bucking up against John.

John was surprised, but managed to get a hold of Cas' hips so he wouldn't get a broken nose out of the deal.

"There," John said after he pulled off, "now we can take our time."

Cas was panting, eyes half-lidded as the left corner of his mouth turned up in a lazy smile. "I liked that."

John chuckled as he got to his knees. He pulled Cas' shoes and socks off, then the slacks and boxers, which he shoved onto the floor. He turned back to Cas and nearly forgot to breathe.

The man was beautiful. John had noticed it before, of course, but sated and happy was an even better look on Cas. His legs were spread wide, arms out to his sides as if he trusted John implicitly and he was completely comfortable letting John see everything. No shame. Not a trace of self-consciousness.

John grinned, then grabbed Cas' legs and flipped him over. He heard Cas chuckle against the blankets and wanted more. He wanted to make Cas laugh, make him scream out his name, make him moan and whimper. He wanted to keep him and never let him go.

"Oh!" Cas said as he flinched, obviously not expecting John to lick the crease of his ass. But instead of complaining, he spread his legs and relaxed against the bed even more.

John got down on his belly, an arm over each of Cas' legs and spread Cas' ass cheeks.

"John," Cas groaned, and it was one of the best sounds John had ever heard. It was surprise and excitement and 'please more.'

Cas tilted his hips up as John licked over his hole, trying to get more, but John took his time, using broad swipes over Cas' hole and down to his balls, then back up again.

All the noises Cas made were intoxicating, and John learned every single thing that Cas liked, the things that made him flinch and get quiet, the things that made him grind down onto the bed, the things that made him push his ass back toward John's face.

John pushed a finger into Cas' hole, and by then the man was so turned on, so relaxed that he let out a long groan of pleasure. John licked around Cas' hole as he reached for the lube with his left hand. He opened the tube and squeezed some out onto his fingers, warming it before he pushed a second finger and lube into Cas' hole.

Cas groaned louder, trying to spread his legs wider, lift his ass higher. John easily found Cas' prostate and started off with gentle strokes. He nibbled as Cas' ass cheeks as Cas' thighs shook, and he started up a noise that John would forever describe as mewling. It was a huge turn on for John.

And then Cas' asshole was clenching around his fingers, Cas whimpering as he thrust back against John's hand, grabbing the blankets at either side of his head as he whimpered into them.

Cas let out a sigh as he relaxed again. "I liked that too," he said, voice muffled by the blankets.

John smiled, not really having expected Cas to come again, but pleased all the same. He got to his knees and sat on his heels. He resting his hard cock in the crease of Cas' ass and rocked back and forth, letting his cock slide over Cas' skin, the head of his cock catching on Cas' hole.

He wasn't in a hurry, and Cas was still relaxed and sated, even more so now that he'd had a second orgasm, so John took his time, a hand on each of Cas' cheeks, spreading them as he changed the angle of his thrusts, his cock sliding over Cas' balls, the crease of his leg and thigh, and then back over his hole again.

"Ready for me?" John asked as he held his cock, rubbing the head over Cas' hole.

"Yes," Cas said, more alert and voice eager once again as he lifted his hips.

John pushed the head of his cock into Cas' hole, then pulled back out, making Cas whimper and lift his hips, searching for more.

"We'll get there," John reassured him, then repeated the process, sinking in a little deeper.

As he pushed in all the way, he lowered himself down over Cas, wrapping his arms around the man below him and kissing his shoulders, lazily thrusting in and out of Cas' hole.

Cas squirmed beneath him, reaching back and putting a hand on each of John's flanks, as if he wanted to keep John right there.

"Feel good?" John asked, then nibbled on Cas left earlobe.

Cas nodded as he moaned out a "yes."

John kissed, licked, sucked, and nibbled his way over Cas' shoulders, in no hurry to come and instead just enjoying Cas, the feeling of finally being inside him.

"John, I'd like to... come again," Cas said, hesitating on the word as if he was trying it out in his mouth.

"Yeah?" John asked, teasing Cas a little.

"But you need to move faster," Cas said, as if John had no idea how to do this.

"You mean like this?" John asked as he moved just a tiny bit faster.

Cas shook his head. "No. Faster."

"Oh, like this?" John asked as he slowed down and kissed Cas' shoulder.

"No!" Cas growled.

John will never forget what happened next because one second he was spread out over Cas, fucking his lover slowly, sweetly, and it seemed as if the next second he was on his back with Cas pushing him down, his left hand on John's chest, his right positioning John's cock as he sank down on it.

"Fuck!" John groaned, nearly coming right then and there at the display of aggression, the manhandling, and the intense look on Cas' face.

Cas sank down all the way, then started to move. It was a little awkward at first while Cas tried out a few different ways of moving on John before he put his hands on John's chest for leverage and arched his back, getting the right angle for the both of them and picking up speed and confidence.

John let out a growling moan as Cas rode him hard, intense gaze nearly a physical thing as he fucked himself on John's cock. John felt power and grace and something older than time itself for a moment before it was gone like a dream only seconds after waking up.

"Come inside me," Cas said.

It was as if Cas had commanded John's body, and John's body obeyed without hesitation. He came hard, thrusting up against Cas as Cas clenched, practically writhing on him.

When John remembered to breathe again, Cas was thrusting against John's stomach, wincing as he came, painting John's stomach with his come. John swore he'd never seen anything like it. He'd never give this up. Cas was his. No question.

Cas let out a sigh, then dropped down onto John, John's cock slipping out of his hole as Cas spread out and relaxed. Cas wasn't too heavy, and even if he was, John wouldn't have asked him to move. John wrapped his arms around Cas and kissed the side of his head.

"I liked that," John said, smiling.

Cas chuckled again, which only made John's chest ache with happiness. "I liked it too," Cas said.

John fell asleep with Cas in his arms.

When John woke up, Cas was gone. He was disappointed, would've liked to have spent more time with Cas, but he packed up and headed toward Bobby's house.


	13. Summer 1988

**Summer 1988**

"No!" Sammy said, stomping his sneaker-clad foot on the driveway.

"What did you say to me?" John asked, turning around to pin his son with a glare.

"I don't wanna go!" Sam said, full of attitude and anger.

"I know you don't want to go," John said as he tossed his duffel bag in the trunk. He and Dean were both packed and ready. Sam not so much. "But we're going anyway. If you don't pack your things, I'm going to pack for you, which means you don't get to bring any toys."

"I'm not going!" Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean walked up to his brother. "C'mon, Sammy, I'll help you pack."

"No!" Sam snarled at his brother, then turned back to John. "I wanna stay here."

"Not an option," John said. "And we're not arguing about it. You have until four thirty, which is in fifteen minutes, to pack what you want to take with you. If you haven't done it, I'm going to pack your clothes, then bring you and your bag down here and put it in the car. No toys, no books, and no games."

John walked away as Sam started crying. "I don't wanna go!" he yelled as he stomped and cried.

Dean followed John into the house. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" John asked as he headed for his bedroom.

"The preschool is doing this stupid graduation thing," Dean said. 

John turned around. "I know," he said.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, can't we stay until after the graduation? Sam's excited about it. That's why he wants to stay."

"You know we're going on a hunt," John said, turning to look at Dean. "The hunt is time sensitive. We _have_ to leave today. I don't have to explain myself to Sam. There'll be other graduations he'll get to attend. Right now we need to get going."

"Oh," Dean said, shoulders drooping as John turned and walked up the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later he'd packed Sam's clothes into a bag and was walking down the stairs again, pretending as if he hadn't seen the extra books and toys Dean packed in his own bag. Sam was still standing on the driveway out front, pouting and with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm not going," Sam said again.

John ignored him, instead tossing Sam's bag into the trunk, then closing it. He picked up his kid and put him in the back seat as Dean opened the door on the opposite side and got in.

"No!" Sam screamed in John's ear.

John pulled Sam back out of the car and sat his butt down on the trunk, took hold of Sam's chin, and forced him to look up at John.

"That's enough," John said. "Throwing a temper tantrum isn't going to get you what you want. We're leaving. And if you scream at me in the car, you're going to get TV privileges taken away for the next week. I know you're upset. It's okay to be upset, and it's okay to cry, but you _do not_ scream at me."

Sam's lips were a thin line as he got to the stage of his temper tantrum where he got quiet. Which was a good thing because John really didn't want to have to deal with Sam in the motel for a week without TV.

John put Sam in the back seat, closed the door, then got into the driver's seat. The car was quiet inside for a few minutes before he heard Sam sniffling. He looked in the rear view mirror and saw Sam wiping at his eyes.

He wanted to give his kids everything they wanted, but he couldn't. He had originally planned on taking Sam to his graduation. It was a silly little thing, but it meant a lot to kids. Sam was excited about starting kindergarten. But John was the only hunter with experience within five hundred miles. If he didn't go, people would die, and that wasn't acceptable.

*

John pulled back into the motel's parking lot, a big bag of food from a local diner sitting on the passenger side. But when he realized the door to their motel room was open, he left it there and ran for the door. He'd only been gone a few minutes, but he'd left Dean with a knife, a gun, and the windows and doors salted.

Dean was standing in the middle of the room, face wet with tear tracks. "He's gone," the boy said.

"Did something take him?" John asked, voice too loud in the room.

"He ran away," Dean said.

John's head spun. "Why the fuck would he do that?" he yelled. He'd never swore at his children before. He wasn't a prude. The kids had heard him swear. But swearing _at_ his kids was something he'd never done.

"He was whining about the graduation," Dean said, more tears running down his cheeks. "I told him to quit being a big baby. Then I had to pee, but when I came out he was gone."

"Did you look for him?" John asked.

Dean nodded. "I ran around the outside of the building, calling him, but when I saw the car I came back to the room."

"Stay here," John growled, pointing at Dean, then slammed the door closed.

John stormed out through the parking lot, headed for the nearest bus stop. It was a half mile down the road, but his kid was smart, and John knew that's where he would be.

Sure enough, Sam was sitting on the bench. It was too late at night for the bus to still be running, but Sam was stubborn, and John had no doubt his kid would wait there the whole night.

When Sam caught sight of John walking toward him, he didn't run. He didn't cry. He stood up on the bench and crossed his arms over his chest, every angle of his body screaming defiance.

John didn't say anything. He grabbed Sam, hefted the kid onto his hip, and headed back to the motel. Sam stayed quiet, arms still crossed over his chest the whole way back.

Dean was still standing in the middle of the motel room, and when he saw Sam there was an immense change in his expression from scared little boy to completely relieved. 

"Get ready for bed," John growled at Dean, who jumped into action and ran for the bathroom. "Are you hungry?" he asked Sam as he sat him down on the bed.

Sam didn't say anything, but he also didn't move. John took the boy's shoes off, then came the socks and jeans. He pulled the shirt off, yanking when Sam refused to move his arms, but finally Sam lifted his arms, the shirt popping off and over his head, but the little arms went right back to their original position, crossed over his chest.

If John hadn't been so furious, he would've laughed at the absurdity of Sam in his underoos, sitting in the middle of the bed with nothing but righteous indignation oozing from every part of his being.

Dean came out of the bathroom less than thirty seconds later and climbed into bed with Sam. "Glad you're okay, Sammy," he whispered, wiping at his eyes again before getting under the covers.

"You hungry, Dean?" John asked.

"I'm fine, Dad," Dean said, turning his back to John and Sam as he put his head down on the pillow.

John undressed and locked everything up, not worried about the food in the car and instead checking and fixing the salt lines. As he walked by Sam, he leaned down and kissed the top of his head. 

"I still love you, kid," he said, then climbed into bed, leaving Sam in that same stubborn position.

He heard Dean sniffle a few more times before he settled and fell asleep. But John could tell Sam hadn't moved an inch. Mary had sworn she could see a lot of John in Sam, even as young as he'd been when she was still alive, and John himself had seen it before, but never so much as tonight.

John heard Sam moving, the sounds of him climbing down off the bed. If Sam was heading for the door, he'd be one sorry little boy, but instead he walked up to John's bed.

"Daddy?" Sam whispered.

"Yeah?" John replied, not moving.

"I'm sorry I ran away," Sam said. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

John rolled over onto his back, reached out and wrapped his right arm around his kid, pulling him over him and onto the bed. Sam snuggled up against him and laid his head on John's pillow. John kept his eyes closed.

"I love you too, Daddy," Sam whispered, then pushed his face against John's chest and fell asleep.

John wondered if he was going to survive raising Sam.

*

The next morning they were headed for a fellow hunter's house when they drove by the bus stop Sam had been sitting at. John nearly crashed the car as he caught a glimpse of the bright green slime on the ground near the bench.

He hadn't noticed it the night before when he'd picked Sam up, and John was more relieved than he'd care to admit that the same creature he was hunting had obviously visited the bus stop after he'd taken Sam back to the motel. John hoped no one else had been taken, but the creature tended to leave that residue behind when it took a victim.

John dropped his kids off at the fellow hunter's house, thankful both kids were alive and well.

*

They'd been on the road all summer and none of them had seen Cas. The boys complained about it, wanted John to call Cas, but John just kept reassuring them they'd see him again. John never thought twice about the fact that he didn't _have_ a phone number for Cas, that the man just showed up for no apparent reason.

John wasn't so sure himself about Cas' whereabouts. He hadn't heard anything out of Cas since that night in the motel room. He was worried. Their relationship was still in the beginning stages.

If that was the first time Cas had been fucked, what if he had decided he didn't like it? Or what if Cas had simply moved on?

John had no clue what was wrong, but he tried to ignore the growing ball of worry in his stomach over the thought of Cas never coming back.


	14. Fall 1988

**Fall 1988**

Dean got a girlfriend within the first week of school. It was his first girlfriend, and Sam was very jealous. Sam wasn't interested in girls yet, but he was interested in doing everything his big brother did. It caused a few fights between the boys, but after John talked to Dean about reassuring Sam he'd always be there for his brother, the fights were few and far between.

John got back from the garage one Thursday afternoon, still plenty of time to cook dinner before the boys got home. But when he walked through the front door, dinner was already cooking. The house smelled great.

Cas' trench coat was draped over the couch in the living room, so when John walked into the kitchen he was ready for the sight that greeted him. Cas was standing over the stove, stirring a pot of whatever smelled so great, sleeves rolled up, shoes off.

"Hello, John," Cas said with a small smile.

John walked up behind Cas and wrapped his arms around the man, hugging him so tightly that he was surprised Cas didn't complain. "Missed you so fuckin' much, Cas," John said into Cas' neck.

"I apologize," Cas said, threading the fingers of his left hand through John's. "I was tracking something that required my full attention."

"Did'ja get it?" John asked, kissing Cas' shoulder and neck.

"Yes," Cas said, setting the spoon down and turning in John's embrace. "I killed it."

"Did you get hurt doing it?" John asked.

"No," Cas said.

"Good," John said, cupping Cas' face and rubbing his thumb over Cas' cheek.

"I've brought gifts," Cas said with a smile.

"That was very thoughtful of you," John said.

"They're protection charms, one for each of you," Cas said.

John smiled. "Thanks, Cas," he said. "I don't know if I'll be able to get Sam to keep it on him, but you can bet on Dean and I using them."

"Sam has been practicing protective sigils with me," Cas said. "If I tell him what it is, he'll wear it."

John took a step back, shocked. "What? Why would you do that?"

Cas' smile faded away. "Dean already knows a few of them, and Sam will be safer if he knows and can use them."

John felt a flare of anger run through him. "I didn't want Sam to know about that shit yet! He's only five!"

"He doesn't know anything about the supernatural other than the sigils," Cas said, remaining calm. "He had a nightmare one night while I was staying here. He was scared there were monsters in his closet. I showed him how to draw a protective sigil that would keep the monsters away. He doesn't know it keeps demons out of his room."

John's anger was immediately quelled. He signed, running a hand over his face. His shock and anger had pushed reason right out of his head for a moment and he'd forgotten just how much Cas loved and cared for the boys, how he'd do anything for them and had never hurt them. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"You're protective of your child," Cas said. "It's to be expected."

"I thought Dean had drawn those sigils," John said. "He picked out that book, so I assumed it was him."

"I helped Sam carve them into the door jamb," Cas said. "He learns quickly and easily. I found some of the sigils on the tree out front and Dean claims he didn't put them there."

John smiled. "Sammy's a smart kid," he said, chest swelling with pride.

"The talisman I'll be giving him can be worn around his neck," Cas continued. "If I explain to him it's another protection sigil, he'll wear it."

John nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Cas."

"If I could be here every minute of the day to help keep all three of you safe, I would," Cas said, and John could see the regret in his eyes. "The talisman will help when I'm not around."

"I worry about you too," John said. "Do you have a talisman?"

Cas smiled. "I have several charms and I've memorized many spells, incantations, and rituals."

"I'm still gonna worry about you," John said, chuckling.

"Hey, Dad!" Dean said from the living room. "We're home!"

"Hey, guys!" John said. "I'm in the kitchen."

"Cas!" Sammy said, and soon he was running into the kitchen and attaching himself to Cas' leg.

Cas leaned over and easily pried Sam's arms from his legs and lifted him, settling him on his hip. "Hi, Sam," he said, then wrapped his left arm around Dean as Dean hugged him. "I missed both of you."

"I missed you more!" Sam said. "And I made you a present."

"You did?" Cas asked, and Sam nodded, looking very proud of himself. "I can't wait to see what it is!"

"I can get it now!" Sam said, then wriggled around until Cas set him down. "I'm gonna get it! Don't move! I'll be right back," Sam yelled as he ran to his room.

"I'm starving," Dean said as he walked to the stove and sniffed at the food. "Did you cook, Cas?"

"Yes," Cas said. "It's ready."

"Want me to set the table?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas said. "Thank you."

Dean nodded and got to work just as Sam came running back into the kitchen. He chuckled as he sidestepped Sam.

"It's for you," Sammy said as he held a small mass of sticks up to Cas. Or at least that's what it looked like to John. "You have'ta wear it all the time or it won't work."

Cas took the thing from Sam and held it up, and once John got a better look at it, he recognized it. He'd seen that same symbol in the book Dean had gotten him for Christmas. It was a protection symbol, but it was specifically made for a creature of light. The book had explained that creatures of light, including humans who lived with good intentions, could lend more strength to a sigil or symbol because of that light, so this particular one was made with that in mind and would ward against creatures like demons even better than a similar symbol that didn't make use of light or good intentions.

The whole thing was the size of a silver dollar, and it appeared that Sam had taken the time to wrap each piece, but John had no idea what he'd used to keep the whole thing together like that. There was a nylon cord through it, long enough that Cas could wear it around his neck and it would stay beneath his clothes.

"Thank you, Sam," Cas said, handing the necklace back to Sam.

John was confused as to why Cas would give it back until Cas crouched down and lowered his head, allowing Sam to put it on him. It was then that he remembered a passage in the book, claiming the symbol was strongest when placed by the maker of it. How his child had learned that he couldn't say, but he felt another swell of pride in his chest.

"I'm hungry," Sam said, changing the subject in a way only kids could get away with.

Cas chuckled. "Then it's a good thing I made dinner," he said. "Now that Dean set the table for us, let's eat."

*

"Will you stay?" John asked later that night as he wrapped his arms around Cas, the lights off and the blanket covering them both.

"I want to," Cas said softly, "but I can't."

John nodded against Cas' shoulder. "How long can you stay this time?" He wanted to ask why, but he didn't want to sound desperate or pushy.

"I can stay for three weeks," Cas said.

John smiled. "I'll take what I can get."

*

"Malus," John heard Cas say as he walked by the bedroom door.

John rolled over, rubbing at his eyes. Cas always woke up sooner than him, which was saying a lot because John didn't sleep all that much.

"Bonitas!" Sam yelled from his bedroom.

John frowned. What the hell was that? He stood up, scratching his balls and searching for his jeans.

"Nox," Cas said, and it sounded to John like he was in Dean's room.

"Dies," Sam said from the hallway. "Hi, Daddy!" he said as he walked by John's room.

"Maestus," Cas said as he came out of Dean's room with an armful of laundry that was nearly toppling him over.

"Laetus," Sam said, handing Cas some of his own dirty laundry.

"Good morning, John," Cas said.

"Hey, Cas," John said, then pointed between the two of them. "What are you guys doing?"

"Word games!" Sammy said. "Cas taught me how to play. He says a word and I say the opposite word."

John's chest felt tight, and he forgot to breathe for a moment. His five-year-old was learning Latin for fun.

"Sam and I started the game one day when we were bored," Cas said as if this wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

"Sounds like fun," John said, wondering when he was going to wake up.

"Dean says it's boring," Sammy said, scrunching his face up as if Dean was an idiot and missing out on something really fun.

"Well, Dean likes to play different games," John said, shrugging. "Did you guys have breakfast yet?"

"Cas made waffles!" Sam said, rubbing his tummy.

"I still have some batter left," Cas said. "I saved you some eggs and bacon as well."

John smiled. "Thanks, Cas." He walked downstairs, head spinning as he listened to Cas and Sam playing their word game.

*

"Let's go somewhere," Dean said later the next day as they were having sandwiches on the front porch.

"Where do you want to go?" John asked

Dean shrugged and took a big bite of sandwich. "I dunno," he said with a mouthful of food. "Is'ere anyplace you wanna go, Cas?"

"I don't need anything," Cas said, then took a sip of his soda.

"No," Dean said, then winced as he swallowed too quickly. "I mean someplace for fun, not shopping for something. Like, I dunno, Sea World or the beach or something."

"Oh," Cas said, then thought about it a moment.

John smiled. "Do you have anyplace in mind Dean?" he asked, knowing his son too well.

"Hmm," Dean drawled, pretending to think about it. "Sammy was watchin' this boring documentary on the Discovery channel last night," he said, rolling his eyes as if he didn't get a kick out the shows himself. "And they were showing people white water rafting in different places, and one of the places was the Grand Canyon. It looked like a pretty cool place to see."

"I think we should go," Cas said, voice an odd mix of excitement and determination.

John let out a chuckle. "Really?"

Cas nodded. "Yes. The four of us should go."

"Yeah!" Sam yelled as he bounced on the porch, a piece of lettuce from his sandwich falling out onto Dean's head.

"Hey!" Dean said, frowning as he pulled the piece of lettuce from his hair.

Sam giggled. "You look like a Cabbage Patch Kid!"

"Very funny," Dean said, throwing the lettuce at Sam, who giggled again when it hit him in the chest.

John shook his head, smiling. "Okay, so, Grand Canyon. I guess we're going!"

The kids cheered, and as John looked to Cas, he forgot to breathe. The expression on Cas' face as he watched the boys hopping around and giggling was one of hope, and John didn't know why, but it felt significant. Again, John had a sense of something bigger than what he could see, something that covered them like a shield and a power beyond what he'd seen so far.

But then Cas turned to look at him, smiling and happy, and John forgot all about it again. He leaned over and gave Cas a quick kiss on the cheek, then wrapped his right arm around Cas as the man leaned against him.

John didn't know what he did to deserve something like this, but he wasn't going to complain.

*

"It farted again!" Sam giggled.

"Shut up!" Dean snapped, but John could hear the amusement in his son's voice.

The donkey must've gotten into something rancid. The smell was terrible, but they were all having such a good time, they didn't really care. Instead of just taking the three-hour trip, they'd decided to go down into the canyon and spend the night. The boys were thrilled, and the smile on Cas' face told John he'd made the right decision.

"My ass hurts," Sam said as they got close to the camping area.

Dean laughed. "Wow, that was lame," he said, groaning and rolling his eyes as he hopped down from his donkey.

"Still made you laugh," Sam said with a smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes again as they all walked their donkeys into the enclosure, complete with food and water for them.

"I wanna help!" Sam said as Cas started to pull out the tent.

"I need lots of help," Cas said as he held the first two pieces out to Sam.

"Wanna help me find some firewood, Dean?" John asked.

"Sure," he replied with a nod.

They walked through the camp area, down a path the ranger had told John there would be firewood.

"Hey, Dad?" Dean said once they were out of earshot from the campsite.

"Yeah?" John said, glancing down at his kid.

"Can I start going on hunts with you and Cas?" Dean asked.

John frowned as he started picking up pieces of firewood and stacking them on Dean's outstretched arms. "Hunting isn't a game, Dean."

"I know," Dean said. "But I'm good with a gun and knife, and if it was both you and Cas, you guys could look out for me, right? You could take me on one of the easier hunts."

"I'll talk it over with Cas," John said, but held his hand out when Dean's face lit up. "But that doesn't mean yes. Hunting is dangerous."

"I know," Dean said, nodding. "But Cas has been teaching me how to draw some sigils and how to research for a hunt."

John chuckled, shaking his head. "All right, we'll talk about it."

"Yes," Dean hissed, a big smile on his face.

*

"Here, Cas," Sam said, handing Cas a freshly-made s'more.

"Thank you, Sam," Cas said, taking the treat from the boy.

John couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. Cas, Dean, and Sam all were having a great time, all smiles and laughter as Cas tried his first s'more ever. Dean was already making another one while Sam pulled a marshmallow out of the bag.

"Mmm," Cas groaned, eyes half closing as he chewed, chocolate smudged all over his chin and lips.

John wanted to lick it off.

"You got some on your chin," Sam said, pointing.

"Where?" Cas asked, mouth full of food.

"Right there," Sam said, finger so close to Cas mouth that it was nearly touching. Unfortunately for Sam, it was the hand he was using to hold his marshmallow.

"Right here?" Cas asked, then lunged forward, grabbing Sam's wrist and eating the marshmallow out of his hand, getting chocolate all over the boy's hand.

Sam giggled and squirmed. "Hey! That's my marshmallow!" he howled as Cas got to his knees and tickled Sam's ribs. "Daddy, help!" he yelled as Cas wrapped his arms around Sam and buried his face in Sam's neck, growling and playfully blowing a raspberry on Sam's skin.

"What should I do, Sam?" John asked, holding his hands up as if he had no clue what to do.

"Tickle him!" Sammy shrieked.

Well, John couldn't resist that. He slid off the log he was sitting on and crawled to where his child was being mauled and dug his fingers into Cas' sides.

"Ah!" Cas yelled as his body spasmed, then he let out a little giggle.

John shared a look with Dean, both of them grinning at each other over this awesome development. Dean dropped his stick and marshmallow on the ground and jumped up, then dropped to his knees behind Sam and reached around his brother to tickle Cas' neck.

"No!" Cas wailed between bouts of laughter as he let go of Sam and fell back against John, unable to figure out which way to turn to get away from the tickling.

"Get him!" Sammy squealed as he pulled Cas' left shoe off, then started tickling Cas' foot.

"I give! I give!" Cas said, words barely unrecognizable as he laughed so hard a few tears made their way down his face.

John paused in his assault and looked up at the boys. "Should we give him a break, Sammy?"

"Hmm," Sam said, thinking about it for a moment. "Only if he makes me a s'more. Mine's icky," he said as he pointed to the glob of chocolate and marshmallow Dean had dropped.

"Anything!" Cas said, eyes wide and a big smile on his face. "I'll do anything you want, just no more tickling!"

Sam giggled and wrapped his arms around Cas' neck, then gave him a loud smooch on the cheek. "Okay, let him up, Daddy."

John leaned down and licked at Cas' lips, tasting chocolate, then gave him a quick kiss. When he sat back, Sam giggled and pointed at him.

"Now Daddy's got chocolate on his lips!" Sam said.

"You've got chocolate on your neck," John said, pointing right back at Sam.

"Dean's the only one without chocolate all over him," Cas said with a grin.

"We really should fix that," John said.

"Huh?" Dean said, then his eyes widened. "No way! No! Uh-uh!"

He tried to get away, but Cas was much faster, and soon Dean was laughing into the dirt while Cas smooshed the chocolate-covered marshmallow from the ground onto his neck.

"Gross!" Dean yelled, but he was laughing and flailing around.

Sammy hopped up and down, clapping and cheering for Cas as John pulled himself back up onto the log and watched the three of them, barely able to believe that all of this was his.

*

"Dad," Dean said, poking John in the back.

John hadn't been sleeping anyway, so he rolled over and looked at his son in the semi-darkness of a moonlit night. It was cold outside, but the tent was well-insulated and four bodies along with lots of blankets kept everyone warm.

"Yeah, kiddo?" John said.

"I gotta pee," Dean said.

John sat up. "Okay, come with me," he said as he unzipped the door of the tent and got his boots on. The boys knew better than to leave the tent if they had to pee, even though Dean insisted he was old enough to pee by himself in the woods.

They walked to the treeline and John gave Dean some space while the kid walked up to a tree and unzipped. John looked up at the stars, always amazed at how many he could see when he was away from city lights. Sure, he'd seen the skies like this plenty of times, but it never failed to make him feel alive.

"You done, Dean?" John asked as he turned. "Dean!" he yelled, frozen because he had no idea what to do.

He'd seen supernatural creatures before, but nothing like this. It was a swirling darkness with tiny sparkling lights throughout that reminded him of the starry skies he'd just been looking at, and the longer he stared, the prettier it was.

Dean was looking at it too, pants down around his ankles as if he'd forgotten what he was doing. But unlike John, Dean's body was glowing. It was amazing, and John wanted to run his fingers through the whorls of light coming from Dean's chest and undulating toward the creature. So he did. He reached out to touch, because he couldn't just stand there and watch any longer.

The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air and crashing into a tree. He slid down, dazed and winded, sitting on the forest floor as if the tree he'd been up close and personal with was a chair and he was watching TV late at night.

"Dean!" Cas yelled, and John saw a flash of light.

"Daddy!" Sammy screamed, but John could only shiver and stare as Sam climbed onto his lap and held on for all he was worth.

Cas was between Dean and the creature, one hand wrapped around Dean's left upper arm, the other held up as if to ward off the swirling darkness.

"Daddy! Make him stop!" Sammy cried, hands fisted in John's shirt. "He's gonna eat Dean!"

John couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but stare as Cas pulled his son and the creature apart. Dean dangled like a rag doll from Cas' grip as soon as the creature didn't have a hold of him anymore, and Cas didn't let go.

The creature let out a wail of agony that had Sam covering his ears and burying his face in John's shirt, then John squeezed his eyes closed when light erupted from the creature. Or maybe it erupted from Cas.

When the light died out again, John opened his eyes and saw Cas standing where he'd been before, though he'd picked Dean up. Dean had his arms wrapped around Cas' neck and and his legs around Cas' middle.

John could hear Dean crying, but it was muffled against Cas' neck. Dean's jeans and underwear were hanging off his right ankle, his boot still on, but the left boot was gone. John was worried Dean had lost it somewhere, that it would take forever to find in the dark, and then he realized shock must've been setting in if he was worried about a boot when his kid had almost died less than a minute earlier.

"Go make sure Sammy and Dad are okay," Dean said.

Cas didn't let go of Dean, was holding him so tightly that John wondered how Dean was able to breathe.

"I need to make sure you're okay," Cas said.

"But Sammy and D-," Dean started, but Cas shushed him.

"That thing was trying to hurt _you_ ," Cas said, voice fierce in a way John had rarely heard.

"But Sammy's scared," Dean said, squirming in Cas' embrace.

Cas changed his hold on Dean, getting his left arm under Dean's butt and shifting him to his hip so he could look at the boy.

"Listen to me," Cas said, that same fierceness in his voice again. "You're important, and you're worth saving. Don't you ever forget that."

John didn't remember Dean ever saying Cas shouldn't have saved him, but the way Cas was almost glaring at Dean, the way he was enunciating every word and making his point, John wondered if Cas had heard something else in Dean's words. Something that told him what John had feared for years even though he'd tried to get Dean to see his own self-worth.

Dean's body kind of crumpled as he put his head down on Cas' shoulder and wrapped his arms around Cas' neck again. Cas seemed satisfied by the lack of arguing and walked up to John and Sammy.

"Give me your hand," Cas said, reaching out with his free hand.

John grimaced, his body aching as he reached up, but as soon as he took Cas' hand and got up, he felt better. Sam was still wrapped around him, so he just carried the boy as they walked back to the tent.

"Let's pack up," John said.

"No," Cas said, turning to give John a significant look.

"No?" John said, face screwing up in confusion.

"We're on vacation," Cas said, as if it was obvious that they couldn't possibly pack up and leave yet. "No one is hurt, the boys and I are having a good time, and we don't want to leave, do we, guys?"

"Is the monster gone?" Dean asked, lifting his head.

"Monster's gone, Dean," Sam said confidently.

John let out a huff of laughter. It was as close to hysterical laughter as he ever wanted to get. What the fuck was going on?

"Yeah," Dean said. "I wanna stay. I was having fun until that stupid thing tried to eat me."

No, seriously. What the fuck was going on? "You're not scared?" John asked.

"Cas saved me," Dean said, looking at his dad as if John was an idiot for not having seen that Cas just saved him. Yeah, so he'd nearly been monster chow, but he was safe now. What was the big deal?

"Sammy?" John said, shifting his kid on his hip to look him in the eye.

"I wanna see the river tomorrow," Sam said.

Well, that was that. John was outvoted on one of the strangest votes he'd ever been involved with.

"Um, okay," John said, shrugging. "I guess we're going back in the tent to get some sleep."

"I'm tired," Dean said, rubbing at his eyes.

John was on autopilot as he pulled out Dean's change of clothes and helped him into fresh underwear and jeans before getting him under the blankets. The boys fell asleep quickly, but John didn't.

"How did you kill it?" John asked, sure that Cas wasn't asleep yet.

"An incantation," Cas replied.

John was once again frustrated by Cas' too-simple answers. "What the fuck was it?" he asked.

"It was a Sraipsoir," Cas said. "A soul stealer."

John closed his eyes. "Fuck," he breathed.

"The incantation I used against it works like an exorcism for demons," Cas explained. "It frees the souls, allowing them to move on to wherever they're supposed to go while at the same time starving the Sraipsoir out of existence."

John didn't know what to say, so he just stayed quiet. He was reassured by the sounds of his kids breathing, but he just couldn't fall asleep.

"Thank you," John whispered.

Cas didn't reply, but he did reach across the boys, tangling his fingers with John's. Soon after, John fell asleep.

*

The kids at school teased Dean about the subtly raised scarring on his left upper arm in the shape of a hand, but Dean wore it like a badge of honor, and soon the teasing stopped.

Cas explained the scarring as a combination of a creature that was pulling Dean's soul out of his body and the fact Cas used an incantation while touching Dean, pulling him away from the creature. Whatever had happened, the scarring would be there forever. Cas' handprint on Dean's arm.

For John, it was a reminder that Cas had been there for his kid in a way that John hadn't been. Sure, he was happy Dean was still alive, but part of his job as a dad was protecting his children. He'd sat on the ground shivering while Cas had saved Dean, and there was nothing John could've done about it had Cas not been there.


	15. Winter 1988

**Winter 1988**

"Cas, what about this?" Dean asked.

John was sitting in the living room, reading through a book on ancient Mayan curses, comfortable in his T-shirt and underwear even though it was snowing outside because Cas made the best fires in the fireplace.

Sam was filling in a word puzzle Cas had made for him, sitting on the floor near the fire while Dean colored on the coffee table and Cas lounged on the couch next to John, reading over his shoulder.

Dean held up his drawing, which was two symbols interlocked. John recognized one of the symbols as being a protection from Earth-based evil spirits, but he didn't recognize the other one, and the way they were drawn together, part of the first symbol morphing into the other one, well, John had never seen anything like it.

Cas held out his hands. "Let me see," he said, sitting up.

Dean got up and handed the paper to Cas, then plopped down on the couch next to Cas, eyes bright as he waited for Cas' verdict.

"Why did you start the curve here?" Cas asked, pointing to the right side of the second symbol.

John smiled. Cas always took an interest in what the boys were doing. It was one of the things John loved about him. Anyone who didn't know Cas would think he was overly critical of the boys, but spending any time around the man, John knew they'd change their minds. Genuine interest and questions did not equal overly critical.

"Because the right side of the symbol is what gives it power, because it's banishment," Dean said. "If I use that to blend with the top of this one," he said, pointing to the other symbol, "then this means the whole thing changes meaning, like you said, right?"

Cas nodded. "That's very good, Dean," he said with a smile.

Dean's face lit up, so proud of himself that it made John's chest ache. John had no idea that symbols could be combined like that, and if he focused on his feelings of inadequacy, he'd lose his excitement over what his kid was obviously getting damn good at.

"Look at this part right here," Cas said, pointing to the bottom tip of the symbol on the left. "Is there room for something else right there?"

Dean frowned at the paper for a moment, then a smile broke out on his face. "Yeah!" he said, grabbing the paper from Cas' fingers. He went back over to the coffee table and started drawing again.

John knew Cas was teaching them these things to protect them, but he also knew they were playing with powerful things. He wanted his kids to be prepared for the evil out there, and he was happy to have Cas as a partner in doing so, but sometimes it still worried him.

"Ow!" Sammy cried out, falling onto his side and clutching his head with both hands. "Owie!"

Cas was off the couch before John, but John was close behind. Cas picked Sam up, holding him with Sam's head tucked under his chin. Sam wrapped his legs and arms around Cas, and Cas sat down on the couch. John sat on the edge of the cushion next to them, patting Dean's leg when Dean sat down on the coffee table. Dean looked about as worried and helpless as John felt.

"Right here!" Sam said, grabbing Cas' right hand and putting it on the top of his head. "Rub right here!" Sam squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered.

Cas gently rubbed over the top of Sam's head, soft touches that always soothed Sam faster than anything Dean or John did. John had taken Sam to another doctor, he'd had another CT scan, and still there was nothing wrong with the kid. Cas tried to reassure him, but John was worried about his kid.

Sam suddenly sat up, pulling Cas' hand off his head and looking to Dean. "Daddy needs your paper!" Sam said. "Give Daddy your paper, but put the thing in. Put the dangly thing in!"

Dean was moving before Sam was done speaking. He got down on his knees and erased the left bottom point of the first symbol, then started drawing in something that John had to admit looked like a "dangly thing." Dean showed it to Sam, and after Sam nodded, Dean handed the paper to John.

"Thank you," John said, eyes wide as he looked between Cas and the boys. What the hell was going on?

"Kitties don't like those," Sam said, pointing at the paper in John's hands.

John nodded, his head spinning. "Okay, thanks, Sammy," he said.

"Put it in your bag before you go," Sam said.

John nodded again. "I will."

Sam's body deflated and he practically melted against Cas, his eyes squeezing shut, lines of pain on his face as he pulled Cas' hand back up over his head. Cas immediately started up the gentle rubbing again, whispering something that John couldn't make out, but that made Sam smile and relax even more.

"Go put it in your bag, Dad," Dean said, pointing at the paper in John's hand.

"Okay," John said, getting up and walking to his bedroom as if in a dream world. He needed to talk to Cas. This wasn't funny anymore.

*

The boys were in bed and Cas was changing into the sleep pants that John had gotten him.

"Talk," John said from the doorway of his room.

Cas turned, a confused expression on his face. "About what?" he asked.

John closed the door behind him. "You know what's going on with Sam," he said instead of asked.

"Sam is psychic," Cas said, blunt as always.

John flinched, his hands coming up to run over his face. He didn't want to hear it. He wanted to know what was wrong with Sam, but he didn't want it to be that.

"You've noticed things for years now," Cas said, his voice gentle.

John shook his head, but it wasn't much of a denial. "I didn't want my kids to have to deal with this shit," he said, voice somewhere between defeated and devastated.

"It was never your choice," Cas said as he walked to John and put his arms around him, resting his cheek on John's upper chest.

John wrapped his arms around Cas even though he wanted to fight it. He wanted to scream and rant about how this wasn't fair, how kids are innocent and shouldn't have to grow up this way even though he was raising them to fight the very things he wanted to shelter them from.

But that was for their safety. This... this just seemed like too much, too far. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"What do I do?" John asked, voice cracking as his vision blurred.

"You teach him how to control it, how to deal with it," Cas said. "And you keep loving him."

John squeezed his eyes shut and buried his nose in Cas' hair. "Did I do this to him?" he whispered.

Cas pulled away from the embrace, just enough to look John in the eye. "Why would you think that?" he asked, face screwed up in confusion.

"The things I hunt," John said, wincing. "The things I kill, that I expose him to. Do you think anything I did or...," he trailed off.

"No," Cas said with confidence. "You've met psychics. You know Missouri," he said, nodding when John did. "Did any one of them say anything other than the fact they were born with it? That they grew up with those powers?"

John shook his head. "No. The way Missouri tells it, she was using her powers before she was even able to talk."

"Sam's special," Cas said with a small smile, "and so is Dean."

"Oh, God, what's Dean doing?" John asked, wondering how many more hits he could take. "Is he psychic too?"

"No," Cas said. "But I think they're connecting on a level that you can't see."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"Sam told Dean to change his drawing," Cas said. "The part Dean changed, I've never taught him that part of a symbol. I've never told him what it does. I think Sam may have seen it in his vision and shared that piece with Dean."

"Missouri's able to see a person's thoughts, maybe Sam's just pushing them the other way," John suggested.

Cas shook his head. "Dean would've looked surprised, but instead he just seemed to know what Sam meant and started to draw it. They always seem so in sync and intuitive with each other, and I think Dean's the reason for that."

"I've spent time around psychics, and I don't see what the difference is between Dean picking up on something and Sam pushing it in," John said, shaking his head.

Cas frowned, thinking about it for a moment. "Dean always seems to know what Sam needs, even when Sam's asleep. And you talk about how they were like that even before Mary's death."

John sighed as he pulled Cas back to him, burying his nose in Cas' hair again. "Fine. My kids are freaks," he said, half trying to lighten the mood, half freaking out.

Cas chuckled. "They're special," he said.

"What do I do, Cas?" John whispered, asking even though he'd already asked the same thing. He wanted to fix everything, and if that couldn't happen, then he wanted someone else to decide how he should handle it. This was too much.

"You teach them how to deal with it and keep loving them" Cas repeated.

John squeezed Cas, holding him tighter. Cas was right. This didn't change anything. They were still his boys. He couldn't give up now. He could do this. For his kids.


	16. Spring 1989

**Spring 1989**

 

The boys were staying with Missouri while John and Cas went on a hunt in Oregon. It was dipping into the mid thirties, so it was a bit chilly when they drove into the small town, looking for a motel room.

Most of the places they drove by were too expensive. John refused to pay that much for a room, so they ended up going into Kittery, where there was a crappy little motel that offered cheap rooms.

"I'm hungry," John announced as they dropped their bags on the table inside the room. He stretched, his back and legs sore from the long drive. "You want something?"

Cas nodded. "Yes, I could eat. I didn't see many places as we drove in, but there was a menu in the lobby for a sandwich shop within walking distance."

"You feel like taking a walk?" John asked. It was dark out, but not so late that the restaurant would be closed.

Cas smiled. "Yes, I'd like to stretch my legs."

"Hey," John said as Cas headed for the door. "Jacket!" he said as he held out the jacket he'd given Cas for Christmas a few months back.

Cas put his arms in the jacket while John held it for him, and it was obvious Cas was doing it only because John insisted, but it made John happy nonetheless.

"Am I doing the right thing, leaving the boys with Missouri?" John asked as they stepped outside.

Cas nodded. "She can help Sam and Dean understand what's going on between them. She saw it immediately."

"I know she can do that," John said. "I'm asking if I'm doing the right thing by encouraging this."

"Why do you still doubt yourself?" Cas asked.

"Because I'm a dad," John said, letting out a huff. "That's my job. And if I'm harming my boys or nurturing something in them that shouldn't be there, then I need to quit while I'm ahead. We hunt things like that."

"John," Cas said, stopping as he turned to John, taking a hold of John's upper arms. "What does your gut tell you?"

John shook his head. "I can't make decisions based on my gut feeling."

Cas' fingers dug into his arms a bit as he shook him. "I've hunted with you for quite a long time now. Your instincts are very rarely wrong, and when they are, it's because you didn't have all the facts."

John shrugged. "I don't have all the facts on this one either."

Cas smiled. "You have something better. You not only have your hunter's instincts, but you have a father's instincts. When you strip away the fear that you're damaging your children, that they're going to pay for some horrible mistake you've made as a human being, when you think about what's out there and what Sam and Dean are already doing, what does your gut tell you?"

John winced. "I keep asking this. Are you gonna get sick of me asking you one of these days?"

Cas let out a little huff of laughter. "You love them, and you're worried you're doing the wrong thing. That's why you keep questioning yourself."

"Pretty much," John said, nodding.

"Okay, think about it this way," Cas said, tilting his head. "Missouri is a psychic, and she's already decided she loves those boys too. If she thought you were hurting them, would she let it go?"

John let out a bark of laughter. "She'd come after me with something sharp so fast I'd never see her coming."

"And what about me?" Cas said. "I love them, I love you, and I want what's best for all three of you. I've been a hunter much longer than you. I've seen what's out there. Would I try to stop you if I thought you were hurting the boys?"

John grinned. "You'd be the only one after me faster than Missouri," he said, reaching up to run the pad of his thumb over Cas' jawline.

"You need to stop questioning yourself," Cas said. "Caution and willingness to admit when your wrong -- those are good qualities. But a person who continually questions himself and holds himself back -- that's not."

John nodded. "I gotcha," he said, smiling.

"Now let's get those sandwiches before your nose freezes off," Cas said. "I like your nose."

John laughed, shaking his head as he followed Cas.

*

"I'm frozen," John grumbled as they walked back into the room, a bag full of sandwiches and chips in John's left hand and a case of beer in the right.

"You also smell like brake fluid," Cas said, nose scrunching up at the lingering smell from when John had changed the brake fluid in the last town.

John chuckled as he set the foodstuffs down on the table. "You tryin' to tell me something, Cas?" he teased.

"A shower would solve both of your problems," Cas said as he tossed his coat onto the chair nearest him.

"I think you smell like brake fluid too," John said with a smirk.

Cas frowned at him, then sniffed the sleeves of his shirt. "You must be smelling it on your own clothes."

"Nope, it's definitely all over you too," John said, then grabbed Cas by the wrist and started pulling him toward the bathroom. "We should probably both shower just to make sure."

Cas chuckled as they squeezed through the door, and soon they were both pulling each other's clothes off. Cas leaned over to turn the water on, then let out a squeak when John pinched his left cheek. He stood up straight, eyes wide.

"What was that for?" Cas asked.

John laughed. "Because your ass is just too cute _not_ to pinch," he said, wrapping his arms around Cas.

"Well, it hurt," Cas said, pouting.

John laughed again, pulling away from Cas, then stepping into the shower. "Lemme kiss it better," he said, holding a hand out to Cas.

"You're going to kiss my ass?" Cas said, smirking, then turned around and putting his hands against the shower wall, pushing out said ass and shaking it a little.

John groaned, then got down on his knees, the water pouring over both of them. "Stand back a little so I don't drown," he said, grabbing Cas' hips and yanking him back so the water hit Cas in the chest instead of running down his back.

"Oh!" Cas said as John spread his cheeks and started licking. Cas widened his stance as much as the bathtub would allow, then stuck his ass out even more toward John.

John pushed his tongue against Cas' hole, grinning when he heard Cas let out a breathy moan. John loved listening to the way Cas' breathing would change whenever John did something like this. The way it would catch when John did something Cas hadn't been expecting, or the way Cas would whimper on the exhale when he got going, or the way Cas would gasp and hold his breath whenever he was close to coming.

And John knew Cas was already close because he was holding his breath, then letting out these adorable little gasps in between. He reached between Cas' legs with his right hand and fondled Cas' balls, rolling them in his palm as he pushed his left index finger into Cas' hole while still tonguing the skin.

A few good rubs over Cas' prostate and he was shooting off, his asshole clenching, fingernails scratching at the wall of the shower, and John's name echoing throughout the room.

"Oh, John," Cas said, practically melting against the wall of the shower.

John stood up, smirking and quite proud of himself for getting Cas off so fast and so hard. "I think I'm warmed up now," he said as he shut the shower off and reached for the towels.

"Don't you want to fuck me?" Cas asked, turning to blink at him, eyes half-lidded.

"I'm hungry," John said shrugging.

Cas frowned. "But you're still hard."

"First I'm gonna eat," John said, drying Cas off since he seemed too distracted or sated to do it himself, "then I'm gonna throw you down on the bed and fuck you until we're both too tired to move. Then we're gonna get a good night's sleep."

Cas' frown slowly turned into a smile. "Okay," he said, letting John lead him out into the room.

*

It was a fucking kitty. John couldn't believe his eyes. He would've laughed had the thing not been screeching so loudly his eardrums were about to burst. And the claws. John really hoped Sam hadn't seen the claws in his vision because they were freaking the fuck out of John and he was an adult.

"Cas!" John yelled across the cave. He tossed Cas the rag doll that Alyssa had made only two weeks earlier.

Little Alyssa was upset her parents wouldn't get her a kitty, so she pouted, then made a fucking voodoo cat. Her older brother's book, which John and Cas had already burned, gave the seven-year-old girl the correct spell, all the words she needed to chant over the doll to bring it to life.

Cas was about to burn the rag doll, but John remembered the symbol his kids had made for him, the symbol Sam had insisted he take with him to fight the kitty. So while the panther-sized cat growled and stalked toward Cas, John wiped his fingers over the cut on his forehead he'd received courtesy of the kitty throwing him into against a rock and drew the symbol on the wall of the cave.

He'd memorized it the first week after Sam had shoved the paper into his hands. Practiced it over and over until he had it down. Painting it in blood was easy. As soon as he touched his finger to the center of the symbol, completing the last part of the design, the cat let out a howl that shook the walls of the cave, dust and pebbles raining down on top of them.

There was a flash of fire, then the cat was gone, leaving behind the smell of burnt flesh and dead bodies, which the cat had left toward the back of the cave.

"You okay, Cas?" John asked even though he could see Cas standing just outside the cave, the doll at his feet and a lit match in his right hand. He dropped the match onto the doll.

"Yes," he said, then stepped back into the cave. "Sam and Dean's symbol," Cas said, nodding at the design on the wall.

John smiled. "I guess I owe them a night of movies and pizza, huh?" he asked.

Cas grinned. "They get to pick the movies."

John chuckled. "That's a given."

"We have to burn the rest of it," Cas said, pointing at the pile of bodies.

"Yeah, I'll get the lighter fluid," John said as he headed for the car. "We should be back to the motel and showered in time for dinner. You wanna pick where we go?"

"I want mozzarella sticks and beer," Cas said as he washed the symbol from the wall using holy water. "And a burger."

"You got it, baby," John yelled over his shoulder.

*

John could hold his liquor, but Cas still managed to out drink him every time. They'd been doing shots and mozzarella sticks for over an hour, and John's head was spinning. They hadn't even bothered with the beer. Cas had changed his mind when he saw the bar had flaming shots.

"I gotta stop after this one," John said as he waved the bartender over.

Cas nodded, already sitting up a little straighter as he anticipated the shot. And John watched him, smiling as Cas' eyes widened, gazing at the blue flame for a few moments before downing the shot.

John chuckled, then threw back his own shot. "You still hungry?" he asked, setting his shot glass down by the plate of crumbs and marinara sauce.

Cas leaned closer to him, smirking. "Yeah, but not for this," he said.

John felt Cas' hand on his right leg, and it was moving toward his crotch. Now, they weren't in the deep south, but Medford, Oregon wasn't exactly a progressive city either.

"I wanna suck your cock," Cas said, fingers just grazing John's dick through the fabric of his jeans.

"Jesus, Cas," John groaned, drunk enough that he didn't notice Cas was getting closer until lips were touching his own. He didn't pull away, didn't stop Cas. It felt good.

"Hey," someone said. "Hey, guys, c'mon."

John pulled away, frowning at the bartender. "Yes, sir?" he asked, as if his lips weren't wet with Cas' spit.

"Look, I don't give a shit what you do in your personal lives," the bartender said, keeping his voice low. "But I'd rather not scrape you up off the sidewalk after some of the more idiotic locals take you out back for a talking to."

Cas giggled. He fucking giggled. John turned to look at him, already smiling. He'd heard Cas do that before, but it never failed to make his heart feel like it was going to explode out of his chest.

"I suppose we'd better leave," Cas said, cheeks pink with amusement. "Let's go to the motel so I can suck your cock."

The bartender shook his head and sighed. "Just get outta here," he said as John snorted.

John pulled out his wallet and dropped enough money to cover the food, the shots, and a good-sized tip for the bartender.

"Thanks," John said as he stood up, then wrapped his right arm around Cas' middle. "I'm gonna take my drunk friend home now."

Cas had his left hand down the back of John's jeans by the time they stumbled out the front door. "He wanted to suck your cock too," he said, grinning at John.

John chuckled. "I doubt that," he said as he pulled out the room key.

"He thought you were hot," Cas said. "He's jealous."

"Yeah, sure, he thought I was real hot," John said, rolling his eyes.

Cas frowned at him. "His pupils dilated whenever you played with the rim of your shot glass. And he kept looking at you when you weren't looking at him."

John opened the motel room door, glad they'd walked to the bar. He didn't think he was in any condition to drive.

"You jealous?" John asked as he closed the door behind him.

Cas stood in the middle of the room, swaying a little. "Maybe," he said.

"Aww," John drawled, grinning when Cas' frown deepened. "He didn't have a chance."

Cas smiled, then dropped to his knees. "That was the right answer," he said, crawling to John.

John leaned against the door, his cock trying to get with the program even though he was drunk. The hungry look in Cas' eyes was definitely helping.

Cas grabbed John's knees in a tight grip. "Open your jeans. Pull it out."

John groaned, turned on at the growl in Cas' voice. "Fuck, Cas," he breathed as he reached down and undid his jeans, wincing as he pulled out his cock, already getting hard.

Cas kept eye contact, gaze intense as he stuck his tongue out and licked the tip. John hissed, rubbing his cock over those lips.

"Open up," John said, and Cas obeyed him. "Suck me. Suck it like that sad, frustrated bartender is standing in the corner, watchin' you, wishin' he was on his knees instead of you."

Cas' eyes widened and he lunged forward, taking John all the way in. John gasped, letting go of his cock so Cas could do whatever he wanted. John was just going to hang on for the ride.

It wasn't the first time Cas sucked his cock, but Cas was just as enthusiastic as he was that first time, though he'd gained finesse and had a few tricks up his sleeve that hadn't made an appearance the first time.

"Touch yourself," John said, then groaned as Cas growled around his cock. "Take your cock out and stroke it for me."

Cas did as he was told. John couldn't see him, but by the way Cas' shoulders were moving, he was working himself fast. John's hips thrust forward, but he caught himself before he choked Cas.

Cas pulled back, smirking after John's cock slipped from his mouth. "Do it. You want to fuck my face? Do it."

John chuckled. "I'm a little too drunk to do this with any coordination."

"You won't hurt me," Cas said.

John's chest ached a little. Cas really believed it. John took hold of Cas' head, one hand on each side just above his ears and pulled him closer. Cas opened his mouth, his hands moving up to John's hips, fingers digging in.

Cas took it as John moved, not really fucking his face all that fast, but instead just fucking in and out lazily. John looked Cas in the eye as Cas just let him do whatever he wanted, lips getting wet, John's cock dripping with spit.

"So fuckin' beautiful," John said, unable to decide if Cas' eyes were prettier or the way his lips were pink and puffy, stretched around his cock. "Gonna come down your throat. Gonna fuck that throat until I make you gag on my jizz."

Cas' fingers dug into his hips even more, pulling him closer, encouraging him to fuck harder, faster, but John controlled his thrusts.

"You ready for me?" John asked, not expecting an answer, but groaning when Cas' head moved a little, as if he was trying to nod, and he moaned around John's cock. "Oh, Cas, fuck! Fuckin' love that mouth of yours, baby," John said.

Cas wasn't choking, wasn't gagging. He was taking it all. Letting John use him. And then Cas was coming, whimpering and jerking, eyes falling closed for a moment.

"Oh, fuck," John breathed. "Did you just come without a hand on your dick?" he asked.

Cas just moaned around his cock, eyes half-lidded and obviously sated. That was it. John was gone, coming down Cas' throat just like he'd promised. John let go of Cas' head and Cas pulled back, sucking on the end of John's cock until John hissed at the overstimulation, then John was grabbing at Cas' shoulders, pulling him up.

"Bed, now," John said.

Cas let out a chuckle as they stumbled to the bed and fell onto it, John's jeans and underwear around his knees and Cas' falling to his ankles. They struggled and flailed for a bit until they'd gotten each other's clothes off, then flopped back, a tangled mess together.

"Mine," Cas said, nuzzling John's neck.

John smiled as he closed his eyes. "All yours," he said.


	17. Summer 1989

**Summer 1989**

"Dad, watch this!" Dean said, running into the kitchen.

John cringed even as he looked up from cleaning his gun. Those three words were every parent's nightmare, even though his boys were good kids. Dean was standing there with his shirt off, in nothing but his jeans and socks. John set the gun down on the kitchen table and leaned back.

"Okay, go ahead," John said, hoping he wouldn't regret it later.

Dean squeezed his eyes closed and his cheeks turned pink, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Celo," he whispered.

John could hear him using the breathing techniques Missouri taught the boys, and he frowned as nothing happened. "What's... oh!" he said, eyes widening as the handprint on Dean's arm blurred, then disappeared, Dean's skin clean as it ever was before Cas had saved him from the soul-stealing creature.

Dean opened his eyes and the handprint came back, but he was grinning and seemed quite proud of himself. "Cool, huh?" he said.

John glanced toward the doorway, which Cas was standing against, a look on his face that practically screamed 'please don't kill me for this.' "That's pretty cool, Dean-o," he said, nodding.

"I'm gonna go show Sammy," Dean said, then ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"So," John drawled.

Cas walked into the room slowly, in nothing but pajama pants and one of John's worn-out T-shirts. He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, then put his elbows on the table.

"We're just gonna run with the magic now, huh?" John asked.

Cas winced and looked down at the table. "They learn so quickly," he said, obviously proud of the boys even if he was trying to keep a lid on it for John's sake.

John shook his head. "C'mere," he said, reaching out for Cas. Cas eagerly scooted closer, and John wrapped his arms around the man, smiling when Cas put his head down on John's shoulder.

"I'm not sorry," Cas said.

John chuckled. "I know. And I don't want you to be. You know that last pep talk you gave me back in Medford?"

Cas nodded against John's shoulder. "The one where I told you to stop questioning yourself?"

"That's the one," John said. "I decided back then that I needed to get my head out of my ass. I started training the boys years ago, giving them the skills they needed to keep safe. So even though all this magic and psychic bull scares the shit outta me, I'm man enough to go with it. And I know you'd never do anything to hurt them, so if you can teach them how to glamor, I'm not gonna stop you."

Cas let out a chuckle as he lifted his head, smiling at John. "Thank you," he said. "Not only for your willingness to do something that scares you, but for your faith in me."

"You've earned it," John said, then leaned forward and kissed the end of Cas' nose.

"Does this mean you want to learn too?" Cas asked.

John sighed. "I know some of this shit, but yeah, I wanna have as much knowledge in my head as I can. Next time something tries to steal my kid's soul, I need to be ready to fight it, not sit there like a bump on a log."

Cas' smiled at him, but his eyes were sad. "It took both of us to save the boys that night. If Sam had tried to intervene, he would've been hurt, but you held him."

"Because he was scared and climbed on top of me," John said, shaking his head.

Cas huffed. "You remember that night a little differently then I do. Sam tried to get away from you."

John frowned. "Huh?"

"He ran to you initially for safety," Cas said. "But then when he yelled at you to stop the creature because it was eating Dean, he was squirming and tried to get away. You had a good hold on him, which at the very least saved him a broken bone, and possibly even his life."

John shook his head. "I don't remember him trying to get away from me. I just remember holding him and watching as Dean nearly had his soul ripped from his body."

"Dean wasn't the only one with a mark from that night," Cas said with a grin. "Sam had a small bruise on his leg from your fingers. You were holding him, but he was flailing so hard you had to really keep hold of him."

John winced. "I saw those small bruises, but I thought it was from when we were roughhousing earlier that day."

"It took two of us to save them that night," Cas whispered, then kissed the corner of John's mouth. "You're not the awful father you think you are."

"I don't think I'm an awful father," John said, shaking his head.

"No, but you think your boys deserve someone who can keep them completely safe," Cas said.

John sighed. "Yeah, well, I don't want them to get hurt."

"That person who can keep them completely safe?" Cas said. "He doesn't exist. And if someone asked me or the boys who we thought would put his life on the line to keep them safe, the one who would do anything for them? It's you."

John closed his eyes and pulled Cas closer, resting his forehead on Cas'. He knew Cas was right. He'd do anything for his kids. It just hurt when he failed.


	18. Winter 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Please see the end notes for spoilers if you feel you need them. This and the next few parts will be pretty rough.

**Winter 1989**

John couldn't figure out what was wrong with Cas. He was quiet and withdrawn in a way he hadn't been in a long time. Cas had been gone for a few weeks on a hunt he said he wanted to take alone, but they'd partnered up for a recent hunt, Cas meeting them in Wisconsin.

The boys were back at the motel. It wasn't the first time he'd left Dean in charge of Sammy while he and Cas went on a hunt. The town was small, quiet. He wasn't too worried about his kids, especially now that Dean had blown all of them away with his gun proficiency.

"You okay?" John asked as they drove back to the motel, having not found the creature yet, all of their interviews nothing but depressing instead of leading them anywhere.

Cas nodded, not saying anything, and John's chest ached. Cas looked sad, and John wished he could force the man to tell him what was wrong, but instead John just continued driving back to the motel.

"You sure you're okay?" John asked as he parked the car in the motel parking lot and shut the car off.

"Yes, John," Cas said, voice soft.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Cas shook his head. "No. Thank you."

"We'll get it," John said. "This thing that's killing kids. We'll get it."

Cas turned to him and forced a smile. "I know."

John got out of the car, frowning when Cas slowly followed, going around to the trunk and rummaging around in there for who knew what. John sighed as he put the key in the lock and opened the motel room door.

What he saw when he walked into the room didn't make him pause. It didn't make him stop and think. There was nothing but a warning out of his mouth for Dean to get down before he was firing his gun at the thing hovering over his youngest child.

John continued shooting at the thing long after he'd lost sight of it through the broken window. He knew he hadn't killed it, and when he turned around, all he could think about was making sure Sam was okay. He grabbed his kid, who was thankfully still warm and breathing.

"Sammy, you okay?" John asked, running his fingers over his kid's face, relieved though adrenaline was still pumping through him.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, eyes half-lidded.

"You all right?" John asked, even though Sam didn't look hurt.

John held his kid close, so relieved his chest felt like it would explode. He saw something moving to his left and turned his head. Dean was inching his way into the room, a guilty expression on his face.

"What happened?" John nearly growled.

Dean could barely keep eye contact with him. "Ah, I just went out."

"What?" John asked, sure that he heard his son wrong.

"Just for a second," Dean said, sounding scared, younger than he had in a long time. "I'm sorry."

John's anger flared up in place of the fear and protective instinct that had kept his heart racing less than two minutes earlier. "I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight," he said, betrayal and shock setting in.

Dean had no excuse. He just stood there, but John couldn't look at him anymore, instead kissing the top of Sam's head and just holding his youngest. He heard Cas come in, but was too upset to even look.

He heard Cas mumbling something, but he couldn't make it out. John scooted back on the bed, sitting against the headboard, holding Sam tightly. Sam would've complained about the bear hug if it hadn't been for the exhausted sleep he'd fallen into.

When John finally looked up again, Dean was sitting on the other bed, staring at Sam. John felt like an asshole for not comforting him, but he was too upset to be what Dean needed. He was a horrible father. He really hoped Mary wasn't watching. But he'd told Dean to stay. Told him to watch his brother. Why would Dean leave Sammy alone?

“Come here,” Cas said softly.

John watched surreptitiously as Cas sat down on the bed next to Dean. Cas held his arms out for Dean, who practically scrambled into his arms, and the two of them took up a position much like John and Sam. John was relieved. Cas would know what to say. Cas could be the father John wasn't right now.

Dean pushed his face against Cas' neck and wrapped his arms around Cas' midsection, his legs sprawled out to either side. Cas held him tightly and they all just stayed quiet for a while.

“People make mistakes,” Cas said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “That's part of being human.”

Dean didn't say anything, but John heard him sniffle. His baby was crying, and John was sitting there like a coward, holding the son he'd nearly lost tonight and unable to come up with one damn good thing to say to the son who'd nearly let his baby brother die.

“You want to know what makes the difference between a good person and a bad person?” Cas asked.

John saw Dean nod against Cas' neck. Dean must've been upset enough that he wasn't able to talk. John's stomach clenched as he realized Dean was in shock, not so much surprised by the fact as he was sorry that the situation happened at all.

“The difference is that a good person does his best,” Cas said. “He tries his hardest even if things don't always go the way he wants them to. He cares about the people that matter and disregards the things that don't matter.”

Dean sniffled again, and now that John was looking directly at him, he saw that Dean was shivering, or maybe he was sobbing quietly. Either way, his heart was hurting for his son. Still, he couldn't shake the anger.

“Things are going to get really bad in life,” Cas said. “That's just the way it is. It doesn't mean you're a bad person if your choices lead you to... a really bad place.”

John frowned at the hesitation. Cas usually thought ahead, planned out what he wanted to say, and John couldn't remember Cas hesitating often. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“A good man, someone who's worthy of everyone's love,” Cas continued, “always keeps in mind the people who matter most, even when he makes mistakes.”

“But I didn't,” Dean said, his voice so soft that John had to strain to hear him. “I was thinking about having fun.”

“Do you love Sam?” Cas asked.

Dean flinched visibly. “Yes,” he said, voice strong and confident.

“If you'd known something was coming for him,” Cas said gently, “would you have left him alone?”

Dean sat up, a hand on each of Cas' shoulders as he looked Cas in the eye. “No. Never,” he said, his voice nearly a growl.

“So you made a decision based on the information you had at the time” Cas asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I thought he'd be fine.”

“It wasn't the right decision,” Cas said gently, “and you should've listened to your dad, but as you get older, you'll learn that the right decisions don't always make things turn out right, and a lot of times there isn't a clear right or wrong. You just have to do your best.”

“But I didn't do my best,” Dean said, his shoulders slumping. “I left him alone.”

“Remember how I told you a while ago that when really bad things happen in life, you need to learn from them and make yourself better because of it?” Cas asked.

John wondered what had happened that they'd had that conversation. He knew the two of them talked sometimes, and he loved Cas all the more for being there for Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean said.

“That's what you have to do here,” Cas said. “You can't change what happened, but we can be thankful that Sammy will be okay, and you can use it to make yourself better, to shape yourself into the kind of person you really want to be.”

“I don't wanna be someone that lets my little brother die,” Dean whispered.

“You aren't,” Cas said. "You're never going to be that person," he said, conviction plainly heard in his voice.

Dean started to cry softly, the sound muffled by Cas' clothes. John closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the wall. Sam was okay. Dean was going to be okay.

But John decided he needed to make sure Dean knew the importance of listening and following through. This couldn't happen again. If his kids could've remained innocent for the rest of their young lives, John would've given up anything, but they couldn't, and this just proved it. Dean needed to realize there were more important things in life than having fun.

*

John knew it was a horrible thing to do, but he felt himself pushing Dean away, training him harder. He was hurt that Dean would disobey him when something like a shtriga was lurking in a town they were staying in.

The whole thing had scared him. He'd always trusted Dean when it came to Sam. Dean had always put Sam first, looked out for him, and to have him leave Sam alone like that when he'd known John was hunting something evil, well, it had shaken his confidence in Dean badly.

Dean had to have known it. He was quieter than he had been. He and Sam were inseparable, by Dean's doing. Sam was at an age where he didn't care that much about independence yet, so he was happy to have Dean sticking so close, but John knew it wouldn't last forever.

The new year was right around the corner, and John needed some space, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone else. He dropped the boys off with Bobby, leaving instructions for Bobby to make sure Dean continued training, then headed off to a hunt in Minnesota alone.

He hadn't heard from Cas since that night in Wisconsin when John had nearly lost Sam, having gone off on another hunt he said needed to be done solo.

*

John's head was a mess. He wasn't thinking clearly, had too much on his mind, and had been drinking. He knew better. So when he found himself in a Minnesota hospital, he felt nothing but regret.

"Hey, there," said the nurse as she walked into the room. "It looks like you're feeling a little better."

John grimaced as he moved. "I'll be fine," he said.

The nurse walked up to the bed and lifted the sheets. "I need to check your bandages," she said.

John looked at her nametag as he moved his hands out of the way. "So who did you piss off to get me as a patient, Kate Milligan?"

Kate smiled, pulling the tape off the bandage on his leg. "Everybody else was too scared to come in here after you wrecked the last room we had you in and growled so loudly that the people in the rooms surrounding you hit their call buttons."

John chuckled. "You aren't scared?"

Kate smirked. "Nope."

"You think my bark is worse than my bite?" he asked as she put a new bandage on his leg.

Kate shook her head, huffing. "No, you've probably got yourself a good bite to go along with that bark. But you also did all that damage without hurting any of the staff or patients. So I'm thinking that little outburst was a temper tantrum from a guy who was just frustrated over his own misfortune. Harmless for all of us, but not so harmless for anyone who deserves it."

John shook his head. "Sounds like you've got me pegged already."

"I know a marine when I see one," Kate said as she pulled the sheets back over John's lower body.

John smiled up at her. She was beautiful, and in another lifetime he might've pursued her, but he had someone. Someone somewhere. Someone who was very special. But who was it?

"I'll check up on you again later," Kate said after she made sure he took his pills.

"Is that when I get my sponge bath?" John asked, flashing her a smirk.

Kate laughed, shaking her head. "Only if you stop throwing temper tantrums."

John chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

The pain medication she'd given him relaxed his body enough that he dozed off.

*

When he woke up again, he felt much better. His leg wasn't throbbing like it had been and the fuzziness in his head wasn't as bad. It was late, judging by the twilight he saw through the window.

His door opened and a doctor came in. "Well, good evening, Mr. Oswald," he said with a smile, his graying hair in sharp contrast to the lack of crows feet.

"Hey, doc," John replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He'd met the doctor earlier, knew that his name was Dr. Pierson, but he also noticed the way the man's facial features tightened when he called him doc, and it amused John, so that was what he called the man instead of Dr. Pierson.

"Looks like you're doing better," Dr. Pierson said, flipping through John's chart.

"You gonna let me outta here soon?" he asked, although he had no problems skipping out whenever he wanted.

"I'll release you tomorrow morning if you're up to it," Dr. Pierson said.

"Somethin' to look forward to," John said.

"I'm going to take another look at your wound," the doctor said as he set the chart down on the tray table, pulled on some gloves, then lifted the sheets away from John's leg. "You don't seem to be developing any infection yet, but I want you to keep an eye on this after you leave us. I'll send you home with a prescription for pain killers and antibiotics, but take it easy for a while."

"Sure thing, doc," John said.

The doctor's facial features tightened again at the name. "I'll get Kate in here to change the bandage for you, then she'll make sure you get some dinner," the doctor said as he taped the bandage back down and replaced the sheets.

"Thanks, doc," he said with a wave as the doctor left the room, smirking as the doctor continued to be pleasant even though John knew he was getting on the man's nerves.

A few minutes later Kate came in, and John hadn't known it was possible, but she was even more beautiful now that his head wasn't as fuzzy and the pain had backed off.

"Hey," John said with a smile.

"Well, don't you look better," Kate said with a nod, looking pleased.

"I feel a whole hell of a lot better," he said. "It's a testament to your nursing skills."

Kate chuckled. "Well, I _am_ very good at my job," she said as she opened a new bandage and set the tape on the tray table.

John hissed as she pulled the tape off, then tried to hide his grin when Kate cooed at him and gently smoothed some triple antibiotic over the wound.

"There," she said as she cleaned up and threw her gloves in the trash can, "you're all set. Are you hungry?"

"Depends what's on the menu," he said, charming smile in full force.

Kate blushed a little. "I'll go get you a tray."

John smirked as she left. When she cleared his tray from the table later that evening, a small piece of paper was left behind. It had her name and phone number on it. Her handwriting was just as elegant as she was.

*

John was limping, but he was able to walk, so they released him. And instead of resting like the doctor had insisted upon, he went right back out and continued hunting the thing that was killing people.

He had no idea what it was. He wished someone was there to back him up, because for some reason hunts always went more smoothly when someone else was there, he just couldn't remember who it was. John felt the void, but he didn't know how to fill it.

He should've known better than to wander into the abandoned house without checking the perimeter thoroughly, but the scream he heard had him moving before he thought it all out.

John stumbled out of the house twenty minutes later, confused and in pain, but with one mission in mind.

Find Kate.

*

He was running, but there was nothing under his feet. He was screaming, but nothing was coming out of his mouth. There were tears on his cheeks and fire in his veins.

And then he was in someone's arms, safe and alive. The eyes were brown. They should've been blue. But she was there and smelled good and called him by his name.

It was violent and rough and so many other things that just weren't him, but she didn't fight him. It only made the light in her eyes burn brighter. She wanted him. Wanted to keep him. But he wasn't hers to keep.

That didn't stop him or even make him hesitate.

*

John's whole body hurt. It was the mother of all hangovers and he was throwing up before he was even able to turn himself over. He choked and gasped as someone with strong hands pushed him onto his stomach.

Once he was no longer choking on his own vomit, the panic was gone. Instead he just let everything out, didn't fight it even though it made his head throb and his throat burn.

When it was all over, he panted into the sheets, the smell of vomit strong in his nose, the taste of bile disgusting on his tongue. He felt hands on his arms again, and he recognized them now. It was Cas.

"Take small sips," Cas said, holding a glass of water to his lips.

John only then realized he was sitting up, his back against the headboard. The room was something out of a horror movie. The shittiest geometric wallpaper pattern he'd ever seen in a motel room was only made worse by the yellowing stains all over the walls. The television was fifteen inches and had rabbit ears, sitting on a dresser that was lopsided, one of the drawers missing. He didn't even want to _look_ at the carpet, let alone the bathroom.

He finally focused on Cas' face, taking a small sip of the water as directed. Cas set the glass down on the nightstand, then wiped his face clean with a wet washcloth.

"What happened?" John asked, though he didn't know if his mouth actually formed the words correctly.

"You were on a hunt," Cas said, setting the washcloth down on the nightstand, next to the glass.

John groaned as he wiped at his face with clumsy movements, his fingers not working right. "Something fucked with my head."

"You nearly died," Cas said.

"It feels like it," John said, wincing. Then he sat straight up, panic making his heart pound. "Kate! Is she okay? Did I hurt her? Where is she?"

Cas put his hands on John's shoulders, pushing him back down firmly. "She's fine. She remembers nothing but a night of fun."

John stared at Cas for a long moment, the night coming back in chunks that weren't in chronological order, but the memory of fucking her against the wall, in her bed, and over the kitchen table were among the highlights.

"Cas, I...," he started, but had no idea what to say. He'd never been unfaithful to anyone before. He'd never even considered it. Never thought he'd be that guy.

"You were under the influence of a curse," Cas said, eyes sad.

John's stomach clenched. "Cas, I didn't...," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know what happened. I wouldn't have..., I don't know what happened," he said, feeling lost, confused, and so very guilty.

"John," Cas said, eyes intense, "you were cursed by the witch you were hunting."

John squinted. "What?" he asked, unable to wrap his head around what Cas was saying. "I wasn't hunting a witch. I was hunting something that was taking fuckin' bites out of people after it killed them."

Cas shook his head. "No, you were hunting a witch who was using the body parts and blood of various people to enhance her spells."

"Cas, I swear I didn't meant...," John said, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry."

Cas leaned forward and kissed the corner of John's mouth. It was so tender that John let out a whimper. He didn't deserve it. He'd hurt Cas.

"It wasn't your fault," Cas said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You interrupted a witch while she was putting together something very powerful, and she cursed you with a need for sex. If you wouldn't have found Kate, if you would've somehow not been able to have sex with someone, you would've died."

"I didn't know you were here," John said, wishing he could wipe out the last few hours, take them all back.

"I'm here," Cas said, running his fingers over John's left forearm. "You couldn't have avoided what happened. There's no need to apologize or feel guilty."

John let out a bark of laughter that sounded pathetic even in his own head. "Don't be nice to me."

"Things happen sometimes that are out of our control," Cas said. "I don't blame you for what you did, and I still feel the same love for you I did before."

"Don't say shit like that," John said, shaking his head as he pulled away from Cas and climbed over the mess on the bed. "I don't deserve it. _You_ don't fucking deserve it," he said as he stood up, a little wobbly on his feet, but too stubborn to back down.

Cas got to his feet on the opposite side of the bed. John had a moment to wonder if he'd been the one to rip the front of Cas' coat -- the one he'd given to Cas -- before adrenaline and emotion welled up to the point of too much.

"Don't forgive me for this," John said. "I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve my boys and they sure as fuckin' hell don't deserve me. I left them with Bobby because I can't forgive Dean. I can't get the image of the shtriga out of my head, and even though he's just a fuckin' kid, I can't forgive him for leaving Sammy alone."

Cas didn't say anything, didn't move other than to tilt his head to the side, eyes on John.

"I came here to hunt, to run away from the fact that I fuckin' know I'm a bad father," John said, nearly growling out the words. He felt tears running down his face, but he was on a roll, couldn't stop unless someone gagged him. "I can barely look at Dean, and it's all my fault. I left them alone in that fuckin' motel room. I left a ten-year-old kid there along with his baby brother when I _knew_ there was a monster on the loose that could kill both of them."

Cas walked to the duffel bag sitting on the splintered, old table in the corner of the room. He unzipped the duffel and pulled out a change of clothes. John's clothes.

"I can't keep doing this to my kids," John said, holding his arms out to his sides. "I thought I had it together, but apparently that wasn't enough. I wasn't enough of a fuck-up. I had to go and destroy the second of two things that were making my life worth it, that were keeping me from giving up. I hurt you, and there's no coming back from that."

Cas walked up to John. "Come take a shower," he said, reaching out and wrapping his hand around John's left wrist.

John wrenched his hand away. "Get out," he said.

"No," Cas said, then reached for John's wrist again.

John shoved Cas, screaming, "Get out!"

"You smell like vomit," Cas said, still calm and collected. "I don't want to sleep in the same bed with you when you smell like vomit."

John let out a growl of frustration as he lunged for Cas, but the next thing he knew, he was on his back, looking up at Cas from the floor. John gasped, shivering as he caught sight of the anger in Cas' eyes. He couldn't remember ever seeing Cas angry. It was terrifying, and he instantly regretted pushing Cas this far.

Cas grabbed him by the front of his shirt and held him up off the floor, Cas' face little more than an inch away from John's.

"Whether you meant to do it or not," Cas hissed, "I've forgiven you, just like your sons have forgiven you for the things you've done to them. I keep coming back because I wanted to make things better, but I never thought I'd fall in love with you. Now I have, and I don't want to go back to the way it was before. I love you, John Winchester. I love you with all your flaws and insecurities. I love your boys. I love your selflessness. And I love you even when you're too stubborn to realize any of what I just said."

John wanted to speak. He wanted to do something, say something that would get Cas to shut up, to fucking see what a cancer John was. Instead he just stared up at Cas, mouth open and useless.

"I'm going to help you up," Cas said. "Then you're going to take a shower, change, and I'm going to drive us to Bobby's. We're picking up the boys and going home. And if you ever question my love for you, my loyalty to you and the boys again, I want you to remember this moment. When I could've walked away from everything we have and everything we could've had and left you to die in a motel room, choking on your own vomit."

John grunted as Cas pulled him up. He felt like a rag doll, Cas pushing him into the shower. He flinched as the cold water hit him square in the face, but he didn't try to get away. Cas shoved a bar of soap into his hands and yanked the curtain closed, the water slowly warming up.

He stood there until the water got cold again before he started washing himself, and by the time he got out and dried himself, he felt calm, felt grounded. It might've been shock.

He walked out of the bathroom and up to the bed. Cas had changed the sheets and pillowcases while he'd been in the shower. He'd stripped down to his boxers and was lying down, head on the pillow and the sheets turned down.

"Come to bed, John," Cas said, and it wasn't a request. It was a demand.

John nodded, feeling numb as he climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around Cas. Cas felt warm and smelled like John's favorite shampoo. It was cucumber, and something that he kept around the house for whenever Cas stayed. Cas hadn't stayed with them in a while, which meant Cas either took some with him or had bought his own. John loved running his nose through Cas' hair, smelling the scent that was uniquely Cas mixed with the cucumber shampoo.

Cas turned out the light and covered them with the sheets. John put his head down on Cas' shoulder and tangled his right leg with Cas'. Cas kissed the top of his head, and soon John was fast asleep.

*

The next morning they were on the road. Cas had insisted on driving, and John never thought twice about the fact that there was no second vehicle, that Cas had just shown up and they left together. He didn't question Cas about the witch either, knowing without a doubt that Cas took care of her.

The drive was quiet. John still hadn't forgiven himself and spent nearly the entire time trying to remember everything that had happened. He remembered the way Kate tasted, the softness of her skin, the way her hair had fallen in his face when she was riding him.

It had all been consensual. John had thought nothing of it. They'd had a great time, and Kate had been an amazing lover.

John just couldn't figure out how or why it had happened. Cas had told him it was the curse, but John had felt like himself. Wouldn't he have felt forced had it been a curse?

He looked out the window, not really seeing the scenery, too lost in his own head. He flinched when suddenly Cas' fingers were gently weaving between his own. John turned his head toward Cas, his breath catching when Cas turned and gave him a reassuring smile, then looked out at the road ahead again.

How could Cas stand to touch him? Sure, they weren't married. They hadn't made promises or ever even talked seriously about being exclusive, but it didn't matter. John loved Cas more than he could ever say. He'd made a commitment in his his own head, and he'd failed Cas.

John gazed out the windshield, frowning when he realized they were already pulling in to Bobby's junk yard. He'd spent the whole time fretting and going over things in his head and still hadn't gotten anywhere with it.

He felt numb as the boys ran up to him, hugging him and Cas. Bobby's voice seemed far away as he told John about how well-behaved the boys had been. He needed to snap out of it. The kids would pick up on it, and this was something he didn't want to have to explain to them.

"...played at the park!" Dean was saying.

John forced a smile. "Sounds like fun. Did you also have a good time learning how to shoot the double-barrel?"

Dean took a step back, happy expression dropping from his face like it was smacked off as he looked up at Bobby. "Uhm, we didn't really do that."

Bobby ruffled Dean's hair, set his shoulders, and looked John in the eye. "I thought the boys could use some down time. We didn't get around to using the shotgun."

John was furious, seething before he could even suck in enough breath to yell. "I left you with specific instructions to teach him how to use it! Why the fuck didn't you do it, Bobby?" he said, taking an aggressive step toward Bobby.

"Like I told ya," Bobby said, not backing down, "the boys and I decided to spend some time at the park and we also did some crafts here at the house. Dean's done a lot of training lately, so we took a break."

"Get in the car," John said, voice nearly a growl as he glared at Dean.

The boys scrambled, Sammy not putting up a fight, which told John that he was coming off a little more threatening than he should've been, but he was too upset to care.

John took another step toward Bobby and lowered his voice. "I trust you to watch my kids. I trust you to do as I ask. You dropped the fuckin' ball on this, Singer. I assume you didn't continue their training with laps or sparring."

Bobby shook his head. "Nope."

John's fingers twitched as he tamped down on the urge to punch Bobby in the face.

Cas appeared by his side. "Thank you for watching the boys," he said to Bobby, then turned to John. "Get in the car," he said, voice barely above a whisper and the look on his face warning John he'd better do as he was told.

"Stay out of this," John said, then turned back to Bobby, about to unload on him when suddenly Cas stepped between them, a thunderous expression on his face and an intensity in the air that was nearly palpable, making John shiver.

"Get. In. The car," Cas hissed.

John's head was spinning, that unfathomable power and sense of time and space hitting him in the face. John was stumbling to the car and dropping down into the passenger seat before he realized what he was doing.

The boys were quiet, and John stared out the windshield while Cas exchanged words with Bobby. John couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew they were talking. Soon Cas got into the driver's side and started the car.

It wasn't until Sammy said he had to go potty nearly an hour later that John realized it wasn't Bobby he was furious with.

*

John had tried to put the boys to bed that night, but the look on Cas' face had him retreating to his room. He knew they had to talk, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

He'd stripped to his boxers and ratty old T-shirt and stretched out on the bed, but his stomach was churning, his chest felt tight, and he wondered if his head would ever feel like it wasn't going to spin off his neck ever again.

He heard Cas come into the bedroom and close the door behind himself. John heard Cas' clothes fall to the floor piece by piece, then felt the bed dip as Cas climbed in.

John was about to turn over, ready to begin a discussion that would probably mean no sleep for either one of them, but then Cas was wrapping his arms around him, kissing the back of his head, and murmuring, "sleep."

*

John slept so hard that he'd drooled on the pillow. It was late, and the boys had to have left for school already, so John took his time showering and shaving. He dressed in some jeans and a loose flannel button-down, then headed downstairs. He paused in the doorway to the kitchen when he saw Cas sitting at the table, but the smell of coffee had him heading for the cupboard.

He sat down at the table across from Cas, his steaming mug of coffee between his hands, eyes on the table.

"I fucked up," John said, raising his eyes to Cas. He could look the man in the eye for this conversation. Cas deserved that much. "I know you say you forgive me, but I don't think I can forgive myself. I remember everything clearly, and I remember wanting her, wanting everything that happened. Curse or not, I didn't even think of you," he said. And it was the truth. He'd known something was wrong, but Cas hadn't even been a fleeting thought in his head that whole night.

Cas didn't say anything, didn't move. It was a little unnerving, but John knew he had to get through this. He had to just say it, get it out there. He'd hurt his loved ones enough, and he couldn't be the man he needed to be for Cas. He had to stop this before it got worse.

"I wanted this," John said, purposely using the past tense even though it hurt. "You're great with the boys, and I never feel happier than when I'm with you. But if I can throw that out the window just because I'm attracted to somebody else, then I just must not love you enough. And you don't deserve to be with someone who doesn't love you enough to be with you and only you."

"So you don't want this?" Cas asked, no emotion, only a slight inflection in his voice to tell John it was a question. "You don't want me anymore?"

John's chest ached. He did want Cas, but not at the expense of destroying him. Maybe the curse John had been under wasn't a new thing. Maybe he'd been cursed all along. He hadn't been a good husband, had let something kill his wife, and then he'd been a complete fuck-up as a father, blaming his child for something that had been his own responsibility, which was to make sure Sam was safe. No one deserved John in their life. No one.

"No, I don't," John said, his throat hurting, as if the words coming out of his mouth were scraping their way out of him.

Cas nodded and stood up. He ran his fingers over John's left shoulder as he walked by him. "I'm sorry, John," he said, and then he was gone.

John sat there until his coffee was cold. Then he sat there longer. Finally he stood up and dumped the coffee in the sink, set the cup to the side. He went upstairs and started gathering the laundry, only hesitating briefly when he realized none of Cas' things were in the house anymore. He must've been too upset to hear Cas packing.

It hurt more than he thought it would to see the left-sided nightstand empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoilers:** Partner betrayal with John/Kate, but John is under the influence of a curse while he's on a hunt. Once they meet up again, John is devastated that he could've done that to Cas, and he's upset that Cas isn't more affected by it.


	19. Spring 1990

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please see **warnings** in the notes at the end. There is a case in this chapter involving kids (not Sam or Dean) and a MotW. Check the notes for spoilers if you need them.

**Spring 1990**

John felt the loss. He knew he would. Cas had been a part of their lives for years. Sam had asked where Cas was the same night he'd left, but after John told him he'd moved out, the boys hadn't said anything else about him.

It was a relief that he didn't have to explain everything, but it also hurt, because every time he looked at the boys, it felt as if they were accusing him, like they knew it was his fault Cas wasn't in their lives anymore.

Spring break gave him the opportunity to head off on a hunt in Kentucky. He doesn't plan on taking the boys out with him, so he finds a motel in a nicer part of town, one that he can leave his kids at without worrying they're being killed by some asshole while he's out hunting.

Sam was happily shoving a piece of pizza into his mouth, the boys sitting on the bed to watch TV, when he suddenly cried out.

"Sammy?" Dean said, dropping his own pizza onto the bed.

"Ow!" Sam whined, holding his head, the food falling out of his mouth and onto his shirt.

John picked Sam up and sat on his own bed, getting Sam into the same position Cas always used, which was chest-to-chest, Sam's legs draped to either side of him, and Sam's head resting against the crease between John's neck and shoulder. He put his hands over Sam's head and gently rubbed.

"Daddy!" Sam cried, squirming against John. "It still hurts! Make it stop!"

John used a little more pressure on Sam's head. "Calm down, baby," he said, voice soft and soothing. "Try to relax."

Sam started to cry. Heaving sobs that broke John's heart. "You're not doing it right! Cas makes it feel better!"

"I'm sorry, Sammy," John said, looking to Dean.

Dean shrugged, looking both devastated and helpless. He obviously had no idea what to do with Sam.

Sam gave up complaining and just cried, soaking a patch on John's shirt and wrapping his arms around John's middle. John felt so lost, so unsure of himself. He couldn't make his baby feel better. It was the longest ten minutes of John's life before Sam sat up and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Don't listen to the mean kid," Sam said.

"I won't," John said.

"He lies," Sam said, frowning. And then he flopped back down against John.

Sam fell asleep within minutes, body loose and warm against John. John didn't try to move Sam, just let him sleep.

"You done with your pizza?" John asked Dean, and when the boy nodded, John gave him a small smile. "Go ahead and get ready for bed."

"Okay," Dean said, then walked over to his duffel and pulled out his pajama pants.

After Dean fell asleep, John turned the light out and scooted down in the bed. Sam whimpered a little, but then shifted until he was mostly on top of John. It took John a long time to fall asleep, the weight of his child on him, breathing, warm was enough to reassure him Sam was okay for now.

He didn't want to think about Cas. It hurt whenever he thought of him. So he focused on what Sam had said, about everything he'd gathered when he researched for the hunt, and how Sam's words could fit for what he was hunting.

*

"I don't want you to go," Dean said as John laced his boots, sitting on the bed opposite him.

John frowned at him. "Why not?"

"You'll be alone," Dean said.

"I've hunted alone before," John said, shrugging.

Dean sighed, then gestured at Sam, who was sitting at the table eating his breakfast. "But Sam's vision. What if you need backup for this hunt?"

"He'll be okay," Sam said with a mouthful of food. "That's why I told him about that kid. Daddy can do it."

Dean seemed more reassured by Sam's words than anything John had said the other times Dean had tried to get him to stay.

"I'll be fine, kiddo," John said as he stood up and ruffled Dean's hair. "See you guys later."

"Bye, Dad," both boys said.

*

It turned out to be twins. Two six-year-old boys. They both told him a different story, and John had no idea which one was true. They were easy to tell apart, not because they looked different, but because Dylan had a stutter and a nervous tic, his right cheek jumping a few times a minute or when John would ask him a question.

Ryan said he'd seen footprints outside their window in the dirt. Dylan said there hadn't been any footprints. Ryan said he heard something hit the wall before he ran into his mom and dad's room to hide with them. Dylan said he'd only heard his brother screaming and running into their mom and dad's room, so he'd followed and climbed in, because if his brother was scared, it meant something scary was happening.

Both boys looked up at him with completely innocent faces. John couldn't even begin to figure out which one was telling the truth. The funny thing with Sam's visions was that he couldn't give a lot of details. As he got older, he could tell more, but all John knew was there was going to be a kid who was lying to him.

"Anything else you can tell me Mrs. Reiter?" John asked the boys' mother.

She blinked at John, the fingers of her left hand nervously playing with the hem of her shirt. "No, sir. And I really don't know why Ryan was so scared the other night. Frank and I looked outside their window the next day, but we didn't see any footprints or any damage to the side of the house."

John looked to Ryan again, a little more carefully this time. Was Ryan lying? Mrs. Reiter confirmed Dylan's story, but John really didn't have much to go on.

"Well, thank you for your time," John said, smiling at Mrs. Reiter. "We'll continue our investigation and get back to you if we find anything."

"Thank you so much," Mrs. Reiter said, suddenly not nearly as nervous as she opened the front door for John.

"Here's my number," John said, handing the woman a card. It listed his current FBI alias and a number he'd set up with voicemail. "Give me a call if you see or hear anything suspicious."

"Hey, mister," Ryan said, running up to him.

"Yeah, Ryan?" John said, turning around.

Ryan pulled on John's sleeve, so John crouched down. The boy cupped his hands over John's left ear and whispered, "Dylan's left cheek used to twitch, but now his right cheek does."

John smiled at the boy as he pulled away. "Don't worry," he said with a nod, "we'll get to the bottom of whatever is going on."

He was purposely vague. If Dylan was lying, he didn't want Ryan's little secret to come out. But if Ryan was lying, it was best if Dylan wasn't afraid of his brother.

John went back to the car and looked through his papers once more, then pulled out his camera. He'd parked in front of the house, so to avoid spooking the family, he drove the car about a quarter mile down the road and parked.

The neighborhood was gorgeous. Every house on the south side of the street backed up against lush forest. The houses on the north side had a great view even though they could see their neighbors.

It was a small neighborhood, but very upscale. The houses were all large and well-built with plenty of details that cookie-cutter homes lacked. The yards were immaculate and maintained by the local HOA.

John got out of the car, hefting his backpack onto his shoulder, and headed for the trees. If anyone saw him, he had his FBI badge in his pocket. He worked his way toward where the Reiter's house was, looking for anything that was out of the ordinary, but other than some tracks from the local wildlife, John didn't see much.

The boys had a treehouse, one their father had made for them in the back yard of their house. John shook his head when he realized the thing had to have cost thousands to make. There were windows with actual glass in them and a rope bridge connecting to a second tree in their yard, which held a platform with more space to play.

The platform had a telescope on it, and John frowned when he saw that it was pointed toward the woods behind the house instead of at the sky. He turned, looking in the direction the telescope was pointed, but he didn't see anything.

John headed off in that direction. There was a good chance that whatever the boys were looking at wasn't visible from his vantage point. When he'd walked a few hundred feet, he came to a stop, looking up at the trees around him.

Nothing seemed unusual, so he started walking again, only to stop when his boot hit hollow wood. He looked down and scraped his boot across the wood, revealing a plywood surface.

John dropped his backpack and put his camera in the front pocket before using his hands to wipe the debris from the plywood. It was only about four feet squared, and there were large rocks at the four corners holding it down, so John shoved the rocks aside and lifted the plywood.

He leaned the plywood against a nearby tree, then crouched by the hole that had been underneath the plywood. The smell of piss, shit, and rotting flesh assaulted his nose, and he reached out with his right hand to pull his flashlight out of the backpack.

"H-help m-m-me!" a weak voice said.

John turned the flashlight on and looked down in the hold. "Hang on, buddy," he said, his stomach turning when he saw a boy that looked just like the twins sitting down in the hole. There were bones and hunks of flesh all around the floor of the hole, and the boy was sitting in the middle of it, naked and shivering, tear tracks on his face.

He knew it had been a shifter, and it had most likely decided to even take Dylan's clothes, hoping to fit in. John didn't know why it hadn't killed the boy, but he was grateful the kid was still alive.

"C'mon, let's get you outta there," John said, getting on his belly and reaching down into the hole.

It wasn't all that deep. Just enough to hold a small child and the remains of whatever else was down there. Enough to keep the boy from shoving the plywood out of the way and escaping.

"I w-wanna go h-home," the boy said.

"It's okay, Dylan," John said, no doubt in his mind which boy this was. "I'm gonna take you home. You mommy and daddy are waiting there for you. So's Ryan."

"Ryan?" Dylan said, peering up at him.

"Yup," John said, wiggling his fingers. "But you gotta reach up and take my hands. I'll get you home to your family, okay?"

"O-okay," Dylan said, his left cheek twitching.

The boy was obviously scared, weak from lack of food and water, but he didn't appear to be injured as he stood up and held his arms toward John, letting him grab his wrists and pull him out.

John got to his knees, wrapping the boy in his arms and holding him tightly, eyes on his surroundings just in case.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Dylan," John reassured the boy as he stood up, transferring Dylan to his right hip as he leaned down and hefted his backpack up onto his left shoulder again.

John made his way to the Reiter house, keeping an eye out for not-Dylan or anybody else, and walked up to the larger of the two trees in the back yard.

"Okay," John said, looking Dylan in the eye. "I want you to go up into the treehouse and wait for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?"

"I w-want Ryan," Dylan said, pouting. "I w-want M-Mommy."

"I know," John said, smiling at the boy as if there wasn't anything to be scared of. "But it's a surprise. You wanna surprise Ryan and Mommy? Go up into the treehouse and hide while I go into the house and get them. I'll have them come outside with me, and when you see all three of us, you come out of the treehouse and yell 'surprise,' okay?"

Dylan obviously wasn't happy about it, but he finally nodded. "'K," he said.

"Good boy," John said, then lifted the boy, holding him next to the rope ladder.

"H-hide?" Dylan said as he grabbed the ladder and started to climb.

"Yup," John said. "You hide up there."

As soon as the boy was safely inside the treehouse, John took out his silver blade and headed for the back door. It was unlocked, just like every other door in the neighborhood likely was.

John quietly made his way through the house, concern growing in his gut as he didn't hear any noise. He walked up the stairs, then toward the first door on his left. The light was on, but the door was only cracked open. John stood by the door, listening, and when he heard one of the boys crying, he slowly moved to the right until he could see into the room.

Mrs. Reiter was on the floor, wrists and ankles tied, a bruise forming on her cheek, but she was awake, wide-eyed, and crying silently. Ryan was sitting next to her, his lip bleeding, but he wasn't tied up.

John reached out to push the door open, moving quietly because he still didn't have a visual on not-Dylan, but suddenly he was thrown to the ground, something on top of him, snarling and scratching at him.

The screeching hurt his ears, but John had been ready, and he brought his right hand up, driving the knife into the small, yet very strong body on top of him. The screeching stopped, and John looked up into the eyes of a scared and hurt little boy. A little boy he'd just killed.

He watched the life drain out of the eyes, and finally the small body collapsed against him. He rolled the shapeshifter off him, reminding himself it was a shifter and not Dylan, pulling his knife out and wiping it on the thing's clothes.

John stood up, then opened the door to the linen closet and pulled out a blanket before wrapping the small body up and leaving it next to the banister. He walked into the room where Mrs. Reiter and Ryan were waiting, shivering and scared after the commotion in the hallway.

"It's okay," John said as he went down on one knee and used the knife to cut the thin ropes tying Mrs. Reiter's hands and feet together.

"What happened to my son?" Mrs. Reiter asked, tears running down her cheeks.

John knew exactly what she was asking. The woman thought that thing out in the hallway was her child.

"That wasn't Dylan," Ryan said, no doubt in his voice whatsoever. "That was a mean kid that just said he was Dylan."

Mrs. Reiter blinked at him for a moment, then looked to John. "I don't understand. What's happening?"

"It was an imposter," John said, knowing she'd never believe the real story. "Someone that looked like your son."

"But...," Mrs. Reiter said, shaking her head, "it looked so much like Dylan. How would it...," she trailed off, bewildered.

"I know, ma'am," John said kindly. "But Dylan is out in the treehouse."

"Dylan's okay?" Ryan said, getting to his feet and running out of the room before John could even answer.

"Ryan, wait!" Mrs. Reiter yelled, fear taking over as she lost sight of her second son.

"It's okay, Mrs. Reiter," John said, helping her up. "Let's go find Dylan."

Mrs. Reiter nodded, her movements shaky as she let him guide her downstairs, not even noticing the blanket by the stairs. Ryan was already halfway up the ladder by the time they walked out back, and as soon as John and Mrs. Reiter were visible, Dylan stood up.

"Surprise!" he said, voice a little weak, legs a little wobbly, but he had a smile on his face.

"Dylan!" Mrs. Reiter yelled, running for her child.

Ryan was already up in the treehouse, hugging his brother, and soon Mrs. Reiter was helping Dylan down the rope ladder.

John turned and walked back into the house. He went back upstairs and grabbed the body, then headed for the front door. He held the body wrapped in a blanket under his arm, just in case anyone saw him. Throwing it over his shoulder or carrying it in both arms would've aroused suspicion.

He drove for a while with the body in the back seat, found a place where there wasn't much foot or car traffic, and pulled off to the side of the road. He burned the body, staying until there was nothing left but bones, then got back into the car and drove to the motel.

*

"Did you get it, Daddy?" Sammy asked as John walked into the motel room.

"I got it," John said, giving Dean a smile.

Dean's shoulders dropped, as if he'd spent the entire time working himself up into a panic.

"I'm gonna take a shower," John said. "You guys figure out what you want for dinner."

"Okay, Dad," Dean said, heading for the menus on the dresser.

John spent a long time in the shower, wishing he could get the boy's face out of his head. It was a shifter, but when he'd shoved the knife into the body, it had the face of a young boy, Dylan's face, and the betrayal, the pain, the fear in its eyes had been hard to watch.

He fell asleep with one of his kids on each side of him that night, holding them close and hoping it would banish the images in his head.

Maybe it wasn't so bad hunting without Cas. The images haunting him were something he'd never want Cas to face.

Maybe this would be a good thing. Living without Cas in their lives.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoilers for This Chapter:** There is a case in this chapter involving kids (not Sam or Dean) and a MotW. It's a shifter that kidnaps one boy, puts him down in a hole in the forest, leaving him there with no food and water. John finds/rescues the boy, then kills the shifter, who looks just like the boy. There is no sexual or outright physical abuse of the kids, but it can be disturbing to some. Nothing worse than you'd see on an episode.


	20. Summer 1990

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of Arc 1. I've already started writing Arc 2, and I've outlined/plotted Arc 3 as well. I don't know how long it'll take me, but that's what I have planned. I hope you enjoy it :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** Please see the notes at the end of the chapter if you feel you need spoilers. There's heavy talk of what happened in the alternate timeline.

**Summer 1990**

The boys had just started summer break, so John packed them all up and headed out on a hunt.

John pitched a tent in Olympic National Forest, the latest hunt something he didn't need help on and wouldn't be too much of a danger to the boys. The temperatures were dropping to the low 40s at night, but he'd brought blankets, so he and the boys could stay warm in the tent.

The boys were quiet, but Dean had taken it upon himself to help Sam with a school project that was due just after spring break. John had no idea what it was, but Sam seemed happy that Dean was helping.

And at least the quiet whispering was better than the silence from Dean since Cas left. He couldn't help feeling as if Dean took is as a loss, like losing a limb in an accident and never shaking the phantom pains. Sam didn't seem happy about Cas being gone, but it didn't seem to affect him nearly as much as it did Dean.

John was writing in his journal while the boys were gathering some sticks. They were within visual range, and John could easily hear them, so he stirred the pot of beans and franks over the fire and went back to filling in the information on his current hunt.

Whatever had been scaring off the tourists wasn't all that dangerous. Instead people described it as pathetic and kind of gross, dripping green pus everywhere it went. The rangers insisted it was an injured deer, wounds infected, but John knew better, especially when the newspaper had mentioned something about the creature molting, leaving chunks of matted fur behind.

"Daddy!" Sam screamed.

John was up and moving instantly, his journal falling to the ground. Sam had a few different levels of panic, and his kid had always been easy to read. Sam's scream had been terror-filled. Something really fucking bad was happening.

John headed toward where he'd last seen his kids, but they weren't there. "Sam! Dean!" John yelled, looking around for them.

"Dad!" Dean yelled, coming around a tree and running up to him, his right hand wrapped firmly around Sam's left wrist. "It's back there!"

"Take your brother to the car," John said. "Lock the doors and don't come out for anything!"

Dean nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, already running for the car, Sam stumbling alongside him.

John turned away from his kids just in time to get hit, something sending him sprawling out onto his back a few feet away. He was glad he hadn't screamed, otherwise Dean might have hesitated. No, his kids should've been well on their way to the car.

He got to his knees as quickly as his sore arms would let him, but before he could get to his feet he was hit again, this time in the chest, sending him crashing into a tree. He heard something snap and hoped that it was the tree and not him.

John grunted as he rolled onto his stomach. He pulled out his gun, finally able to get a hold of it, and aimed it toward the dark thing in his peripheral vision. A shot rang out, but it didn't stop whatever was heading for him.

His gun went flying off in one direction and he was tossed in another. As he landed, he heard another snap and felt a horrific pain in his right leg. He knew it was broken. He had a moment to pat himself on the back for teaching Dean how to drive and having told his kids to find help if ever he was out of contact for more than an hour.

John might die in this forest, but his kids would be okay. Dean would get them to safety.

He struggled, pulling himself back against a tree, using it to support his back as he sat up. When he tried to move his left arm, he cried out in pain. Apparently his left arm had been broken the first time he'd hit a tree. It was him that broke, not the tree.

"Fuck," John hissed as he looked down at his mangled left arm.

He had no idea where his gun was, his knife was back by the tent, and he had nothing else left to defend himself with. He looked down at his wrist and suddenly everything else seemed insignificant, like it was far away.

"Cas," John whispered, looking at the watch on his left wrist. It was shattered, only the band and metal casing left. "I'm sorry, Cas," he said, eyes welling up with tears as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch the dark thing coming at him. He filled his head with Cas, wishing Cas could be there, that he could say he was sorry and that he loved Cas. He loved him so fucking much.

There was a flash of light and the sound of something dying. It was a wailing that he'd only ever heard out of large animals as the life bled from them. John opened his eyes, gasping when he saw Castiel standing only a few feet away, the creature dead at his feet.

"Why are you here?" Cas growled as he stomped to John's right side and dropped to his knees. "Why are you here?!" he said again, eyes wild and face screwed up in a mix of anger and desperation.

"I'm hunting," John said, confused by the question.

"You're not supposed to be here," Cas said. "You've weren't here the last time!"

John tried to figure out what Cas meant, but he was in too much pain. Then he remembered the kids. "The boys," he said, trying to sit up.

Cas paused for a moment, looking off in the distance, then back at John. "They're fine."

John didn't know why, but he believed Cas, so he relaxed against the tree again. "I didn't know you were hunting this thing too," he said, then coughed, his chest burning so badly that he nearly passed out.

Cas' eyes were even more wild as he looked down at John's chest. John glanced down, then grunted when he saw splatters of blood, some connected to his lips by strings of spit.

"Ah, shit," John said, then coughed again. He'd obviously punctured a lung, and he suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

"Close your eyes," Cas said, and before John could protest, Cas was covering his eyes with his right hand.

John gasped, his body jerking as if he'd been shocked with electricity, but instead it was something warm, something soothing that spread out everywhere. It was tingly and familiar and home and Cas and he never wanted it to stop, wanted to wrap himself in it and never come out.

All too soon it stopped, and John was left panting and shivering, staring up at Cas, suddenly remembering, suddenly understanding why he'd felt power, something bigger than life, something awe-inspiring.

And then just as quickly as it had come, it was almost gone again. Almost.

Cas frowned. "We have to talk."

John nodded, eyes wide as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. But his brain wasn't being all that helpful.

"But first we have to get the boys," Cas said.

John nodded again, then took Cas' hand as the thing that he used to think was a human helped him up. Soon they were back at the campsite.

"Get your gear," Cas said as he kicked the pot of beans over onto the ground.

John watched as the fire was there one moment, then gone the next, the logs not even smouldering. John had seen weird shit before, but he was beginning to think the creature might've fucked with his head. He'd heard of creatures that could put a man into a dream-like state, showing you everything you'd ever wanted.

And then he reached out for his journal using his left hand. His watch was there on his wrist, or what was left of it. If this was some fantasy world the creature had shoved him into, his watch would've been fixed. A dream world without Cas by his side wasn't a dream at all. John grabbed the rest of their things and trudged after Cas, who seemed to know exactly where the car was.

John was proud of his boys when they finally came upon the car. They stayed inside even though they saw Cas and were obviously excited to see him. They waited, rather impatiently, until John opened the door and held it for them.

Dean didn't budge, the car running and his right hand on the gear shift, one foot on the brake and ready to go. His eyes were wide, and John could tell he was trying hard to stay still, to not give in and just fling himself at Cas.

"C'mon, Pooh-bear," John said, his voice sounding foreign to him, as if he wasn't even in his own body anymore. He waved Dean out. "It's okay."

Dean was scrambling out of the car before John even finished saying the codename, the one they'd come up with together years ago as an "everything's okay" signal.

The boys had no clue that John had almost just died, so after seeing John was obviously okay, they ran for Cas and nearly knocked him to the ground. John could hear them saying how much they'd missed him, they never wanted him to leave again, and how much they loved him.

John wanted to do the same thing, but instead he just got into the car. Soon the boys and Cas were climbing in and John started driving, unable to concentrate on anything the boys or Cas were saying. He was surprised he was able to find the motel they were staying at, but he did it.

"Dean, would you please take your brother inside?" John said as he shut the car off.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, and soon it was just Cas and John left in the car.

"Talk to me, Cas," John said, staring at the trees across the street, blowing in the gentle breeze.

Cas didn't say anything, and just as John was about to turn and demand an explanation, Cas wrapped his left hand around the back of John's head and pulled him close, first kissing his forehead, then the corner of his mouth as Cas wrapped his right arm around his chest.

"You almost died," Cas said in between kisses. "I almost didn't make it in time."

John wanted to get lost in the kisses, to forget what had happened and just give in, but he couldn't. He pulled away, turning to look Cas in the eye. "What are you?" he said, trying to ignore the fleeting expression of hurt on Cas' face.

"Someone told me a long time ago it's okay to be selfish sometimes," Cas said, a fond look on his face, that one he got whenever he was talking about James and Robert.

John blinked at Cas. "Okay," he said, frowning.

"I want to tell you everything," Cas said. "But only because it's what I want, not because it's what's best for you or anyone else."

John let out a huff. "Cas, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"But when I'm done," Cas said, wincing, "I'll have to make you forget."

"Cas, knock it off," John growled. "This is ridiculous."

"I'm an angel," Cas said.

John shook his head. "This isn't funny."

"I was assigned to watch over Dean and his family," Cas continued. "I carried out my assignment, watching over all of you without getting involved unless it meant one of you would be killed or that your lives would take a different course."

John sighed. "I don't know why I'm listening to this shit, but fine, let's go with it," he said, shrugging.

"I didn't get involved, didn't meet any of you," Cas said. "I was an observer, a guardian angel, and none of you ever knew about it until Dean died and went to hell eighteen years from now."

John opened his mouth, then closed it. Had Cas finally lost his mind? The expression on his face, the intensity of his eyes said he was serious, that he was telling the truth, but what the fuck?

"I'm the one who pulled him from Hell," Cas said. "And even then all of you were nothing but an assignment for me. It wasn't until Dean frustrated me, confused me, and forced me to look at things from another point of view that I decided he deserved more than just a guardian angel. More than just an observer."

John felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe, how to exist outside the car. This was it, and he was along for the ride. He was on a roller coaster, strapped in and with no choice but to hang on. He knew the words were true now, knew that Cas was giving him everything.

"I defied heaven for him," Cas said, his voice showing emotion for the first time since he'd started talking. "I fell for him. I killed for him. I fought for him."

Cas was quiet for a moment, eyes focused on something off to John's left before he looked to John again, pain in those beautiful blue eyes.

"We thought we could handle whatever anyone threw at us," Cas said. "Not that we'd survive it all, but that we'd never give in, never let the bad guys win. But we'd all been through so much. Dean's time in Hell had left deep scars, Sam's time in Hell with Lucifer left deep scars, and we all hurt each other, we all did things we weren't proud of."

John shivered. He felt the power again, the sense of time and space, the immense scale of the universe, the pain of lives lost, of having your spirit broken, of wishing things didn't have to be that way. He remembered the other times he'd felt it.

"And then Dean received the Mark of Cain," Cas said, nearly snarling the words. "He died, and this time he came back as a demon. There was nothing I could do about it."

John had no idea what Cas was talking about, but he couldn't speak, couldn't ask because his mouth just refused to open.

"Sam tried to fix it, I tried to fix it," Cas said, then shook his head. "But it didn't work. The Mark of Cain was too strong. Dean fought it, fought hard, but the moments of clarity, the moments where it was Dean and not the Mark were coming few and far between."

John had never seen Cas this upset, this emotional. Cas had taken John's right hand in his and it was as if the man, or whatever he was, was holding on for fear he'd lose it all if he let go.

"The angels who survived everything that had happened since they fell," Cas said, "decided they'd had enough. I found out about it and warned Dean. He went into hiding, but then they took Sam. They did...," Cas said, his mouth left open as he shuddered, "horrible things to him. It was worse than anything Lucifer ever did to him."

John watched as a tear ran down Cas' left cheek. It was painful to watch, but he knew it wasn't as painful as whatever Cas had gone through.

"Sam never broke," Cas said, letting out a small huff of laughter, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "He never told them where Dean was," he said, then looked down at their hands, shaking his head. "But they found me. They told me they were going to wipe out half of humanity if I didn't tell them where Dean was."

John didn't have to work anymore at creating the scenes in his head. It was almost as if he was watching a movie of it all, a horror flick that Dean would've insisted he was old enough to watch.

"I had to tell them," Cas whispered. "I was too weak with only borrowed grace to do anything to them, and I knew Dean would've never forgiven me if I'd saved him instead of billions of people. So I told them. I knew where he was because I'd selfishly marked him. I wanted to know where he was all the time."

John reached out and cupped Cas' right cheek, and Cas leaned into the touch, soaking up the comfort.

"I led them right to him," Cas said, voice cracking, "and I watched as they ripped the Mark from him, sharing it between two of them to lessen the effects, then they left him to die. It was too much a part of him. He couldn't survive without it. It had changed him enough that... He couldn't survive without it. So I held him in my arms. And it was Dean, not whatever the Mark of Cain was turning him into. It was Dean," he said, his bottom lip quivering as another tear ran down his cheek.

John wiped the tear away with his thumb, the tremors running through Cas' body making his chest ache.

"Dean forgave me," Cas said, shaking his head. "He looked me in the eye and said he knew what I'd done, then he forgave me and said I'd done the right thing." Cas' bottom lip quivered. "I doubt it was mercy on their part, but by the time the angels dropped Sam, broken and a bloody mess on the floor next to me, Dean was dead."

John still didn't know what to say. He'd always wanted to know what had happened to them, and there was no doubt in his mind now that James and Robert were Dean and Sam. But he hadn't expected this. He never would've expected this.

"Sam tried," Cas whispered. "He tried to move on. To have a life after everything that had happened, but every move he made left him in excruciating pain. His hands were unusable, his legs weren't much better, and even though I constantly reassured him I didn't mind taking care of him, that I wanted to take care of him, he felt like he was a burden."

John could see his boys in his head. The strong, handsome men they'd grown into, but Cas wouldn't let him see Sam at his worst. Wouldn't let him see everything that they'd done to him. John knew Cas was doing it out of love, saving him the horror of seeing his child like that, but it was almost worse to wonder what had happened.

"Nothing helped the pain," Cas said. "He didn't have a life, no matter what either of us did. And finally he convinced me to end it. He couldn't do it himself, didn't have the strength or coordination left in his hands, so I held him, told him I loved him."

Cas' breath caught in his chest, and he let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a groan of agony.

"He told me it was okay," Cas said, then shook his head, a small smile as he thought about Sam. "After everything he'd been through, he was reassuring me. And he said he loved me, thanked me, and then I broke his neck."

John felt tears running down his own face, but he still couldn't speak, couldn't move.

"I was lost," Cas said, shaking his head. "It wasn't as if the world stopped without them, but rather nothing I did mattered." Cas sniffled. "It was then that I called out to Destiny. The Fates had long since given up and moved on, but I knew Destiny was tired of her plans being ruined."

Cas' expression changed from deep sorrow to one of hope. There were tear tracks drying on his face, but his back was straightening, as if the weight of the world was no longer shoving him down.

"I begged her," Cas said, closing his eyes as John wiped the tears away. "I asked for another chance. To go back and do it right, give Sam and Dean the childhood they deserved and the destiny everyone could live with. She agreed with some strict rules put in place. I agreed, so she found my grace. I don't know how, but she did it. She gave it back to me, then sent me back here, telling me I had the chance to make things turn out better for all of us and not to fuck it up."

John let out a huff of laughter, imagining someone as powerful as Destiny telling Cas not to fuck it up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Cas shrugged. "I couldn't. It would've changed your decisions. I can give you all a better life, but I can't stop any of you from continuing on the path you need to follow. I can't change what drives all of you. I can't stop most of everything that's going to hurt each of you. I can't keep Dean from going to Hell. And once she sent me back, I couldn't stop myself from falling in love with you."

John knew Cas had to have done something to keep him calm. Everything he'd just been told, all that would happen, all that had happened was enough to wreck even the strongest of anyone, but John was fine. Upset yes, but he was fine.

John pulled Cas a little closer. "Even with everything that has to happen, you can make things better? The end result can be better than the first time around?"

Cas nodded. "Not just the end result, but all of you deserve to be happy, and I think I can give that to you."

"But you have to wipe my memory of everything you've said," John said instead of asked. He'd seen almost all of it. He knew what had to happen and why. It didn't mean he had to like it.

Cas nodded again. "I can't let the knowledge of what's coming change your decisions. Not yet."

"Okay, but you can tell me one of these days?" John said, and everything in him was fighting it. He wanted to demand that he keep his memories, that it wouldn't change his decisions, but he knew it wasn't true.

"Yes. And I'm sorry, John," Cas said, raising his right hand. "I'd let you keep your memories if I could. I'll tell you everything again when it won't change Destiny's plans."

John flinched, reaching out and grabbing Cas' wrist. "Wait! I have to tell you something first."

Cas nodded. "Okay."

"I'm being an idiot," John said. "Scratch that. I'm being a complete asshole."

Cas' lips twitched into a smile. "Yes, you are."

John chuckled, then shook his head. "I love you. I want us to make a life together. Can we do that? Will everything be okay if we're together or does that fuck up Destiny's thing?"

Cas smiled. "We can, but only if you stop being an asshole."

John snorted. "Well, I think you know me better than that. I'm still going to be an asshole, but I'm telling you right now not to listen to me. I'm scared out of my mind that I'm going to hurt you again and mess up my kids even more than I have. After everything you've shown me, my mistakes seems so petty, so insignificant, and I know I couldn't have stopped what happened with Kate because of Adam. I know that now. I know what he has to do."

Cas nodded. "I had to make you do it."

"I know, and I forgive you, for what it's worth," John said with a sad smile. "but once you do this, I won't remember anything but the fact that I cheated on you. And I want you to know that you have my permission to fight me on it. You're good at breaking down my stubborn bullshit walls. Do it. Because I love you, I want you no matter how much I growl and push you away. And right now I know that you want it too, but I'll forget that in a few minutes, so you have to make me see it."

"I will," Cas said, voice confident.

"One more thing," John said, then leaned forward and captured Cas' lips in a kiss. It was desperate and he held Cas' face with both hands, not willing to let go yet. He didn't want to forget this, and he hoped something would stay, something would be left behind.

John felt Cas' fingers trailing over his shoulders, up his neck, and finally to his forehead. He gasped, wrapping his arms around his midsection as it seemed to explode with white hot pain. He fell back against the seat and yelled, feeling stupid for having let the creature sneak up on him.

"Let's get you inside," Cas said as he pulled John out of the car. "You need stitches."

John looked down. It was a good thing the creature hadn't been any larger or its antlers would've pierced his chest. He wasn't bleeding badly, but there was enough blood that he knew Cas was right about the stitches.

They walked into the motel room, where Sam and Dean were pulling the first aid kit out and setting the supplies on the table.

"Sit," Cas said, gently lowering him to the bed.

John winced, but did as he was told. Cas helped him lie down, and then he lifted John's shirt.

"Here, Cas," Dean said, handing Cas an antiseptic wipe.

John hissed, but really the wound wasn't that bad. He watched Sam hand Cas the threaded needle and was proud of his son for not being squeamish, for paying attention to everything Cas did.

After John was all patched up with stitches and a bandage, Cas sent Dean next door with Sam to pick up some dinner from the fast food restaurant in the lobby of the motel.

"It was a good thing you showed up when you did," John said, trying to keep things light. He hadn't seen Cas since he'd fucked up their relationship, and he certainly didn't want to lead Cas on now. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Cas said as he took off his shoes and set them in the corner of the room. Soon his trench coat was draped over one of the chairs at the table.

John tensed as Cas took off his tie and dropped it on the table. It looked like Cas was staying. Shit.

"You headin' out after dinner?" John asked, going for nonchalance, but failing miserably.

"No," Cas said as he walked to the bed John was sitting on and stretched out, motioning for John to join him. "I'm staying the night, then we're going home."

John stood up. "Let's not get into this again," he said, anxious and a little pissed. "You can stay the night if you want, but then we'll go our separate ways."

Cas smiled at him. It was a mischievous smile that was annoying and infuriating and fucking adorable.

"I'd rather go home," Cas said.

John was about to loudly expound upon all the reasons that was a horrible idea when the door opened and his kids walked in with the food.

"Dinner!" Sammy announced.

John frowned at Cas, giving him a 'this isn't over' look. Cas just continued smiling as he got up and grabbed a burger and fries for himself. John sighed, giving up for the moment. He was too hungry to fight about it. It could wait until later.

*

The boys were sleeping, and John couldn't take it anymore. If he slept in the same bed as Cas, he was going to let his guard down, and then he'd beg Cas to take him back. Which Cas seemed more than willing to do, but John couldn't let himself do that.

John checked on the kids one more time, then headed for the door, giving Cas the signal that meant 'you'd better follow me.' Cas did without hesitation, and John led them to the little park across the street he'd gazed at earlier. It was even prettier in the moonlight than it had been before.

He walked up to the tiny pond that was obviously man-made, then turned to Cas, ready to lay it all out there. He'd psyched himself up for this, and nothing was going to stop him.

"You're going to make it up to me," Cas said.

John blinked at Cas for a moment, unsure he heard the man correctly. "Huh?" he said, his plans for a speech derailed.

"I don't want to leave you," Cas said. "And I know you don't _want_ me to leave you. So I'm going home, to our home where I belong, and you're going to make it up to me."

John's stomach clenched. This wasn't going the way it was supposed to. He was supposed to be telling Cas what was going to happen, the way things needed to be, and going home together wasn't it.

Cas took a step closer, reaching up and putting a hand on each of John's upper arms. "You said you loved me," he said, looking into John's eyes as if he could see right into his soul. "You don't say that to just anybody. Were you lying?"

John shook his head even though it didn't seem like Cas ever needed to ask that question. John knew it was for his benefit, not Cas'. He knew what Cas was doing, and John was going to let him.

"Neither was I," Cas said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I love you, John Winchester."

John closed his eyes as Cas leaned in and placed a too-gentle kiss on his jawline. It was painful, making his chest ache because he wanted to let it happen, he wanted it all back, and he wanted to accept Cas' forgiveness.

"How?" John asked, feeling raw, broken open, and completely at the mercy of the man standing in front of him. "How do I make it up to you?"

"You'll find a way," Cas said, shrugging, completely confident.

John slowly nodded. "Yeah, I guess I will," he said, wrapping his arms around Cas and holding him close, turning his head and breathing in the scent of cucumber shampoo and Cas.

End of Arc 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoilers for the Chapter:** Cas tells John everything. Dean was killed after having the Mark ripped from him by angels, Cas holding him as he dies. Sam was tortured by angels in order to figure out where Dean was, permanently disfigured from the torture. Sam convinces Cas to kill him, putting him out of his misery. Cas decides to find Destiny because of all this.


End file.
